


White Out Survival

by TimeLadyoftheSith



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Human AU, Mountain Wilderness, Plane Crash, Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-01-30 18:42:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12659211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeLadyoftheSith/pseuds/TimeLadyoftheSith
Summary: Rose Tyler is looking forward to the vacation she won in a raffle. She doesn't mind going alone, even if it means flying for the first time by herself. She finds herself on a plane with Jonathan Noble, a renowned actor and producer, who is a snobby, self centered, jerk. When tragedy strikes, they have to work together to survive. Will they make it out of the frozen wilderness in one piece, or will the snow be took much for even Jonathan's frozen heart?





	1. Chapter 1

Many people took vacations with friends or family, choosing the sensation of familiarity that they left behind to help them venture into the unknown. Not Rose Tyler, as she was used to being alone. She had been excited when her name was drawn in the raffle that she had bought for five quid. She had won a four day long stay at the tiny out of the way resort tucked away in the mountains. It had been meant for two, but Amelia was busy with a new photoshoot. Mickey couldn't get the time off of work, and her mum was going to be visiting Grandmum Prentice.

Rose really didn't mind. She was going to enjoy the solitude to unwind, read a few books she had been neglecting, and maybe try skiing or snowboarding. First, she just had to get there. The commercial airplane took her most of the way, but she would be taking a small twenty passenger plane the rest of the way. That small plane had been delayed, allowing her time to stretch her legs and pace the small gate area. She glanced around at the others waiting. There was a couple, probably in their mid to late fifties, looking over the resort pamphlet, a trio of teen girls sporting matching puff vests over pastel long sleeves and jeans with fur boots, and a solitary man.

The man was wearing a pair of expensive looking sunglasses, despite being indoors, a pair of jeans that had obvious designer made fading and distressed look, and a blue henley under a very well tailored pinstripe coat. There was something about his jaw, sideburns, and perfectly tousled hair that looked familiar, but she couldn't place where from. He hadn't spoken since he took his seat with his carry on and huge coat, that was draped across the chair, and began furiously texting. So, she couldn't tell if he was from the UK like she was, or from somewhere else.

"We're about to begin boarding now." The man at the counter spoke. There was no need to announce it, as they were the only people on this flight. She had overheard him and the woman he relieved talking. This was the last flight out for the next twenty-four hours, and it was an abnormally uncrowded flight.

Rose shifted her own carryon, something like a cross between a bookbag and a rucksack she had borrowed from her neighbor, onto her back. She had all of the necessities in case she had an overnight layover: tooth brush, tooth paste, a small throw blanket, a thicker jacket for when she landed, and one of her books. She was closest to the desk, so she got there first, ready to hand over the ticket, when sunglasses guy cut in front of her, narrowly missing catching her in the chest with his elbow. "Excuse me!" She snapped.

"Excuse you." His upper lip curled haughtily as he turned the dark lenses down at her. She could tell he was staring at her with a look of disdain. "But I have priority boarding." His accent did indeed reveal he was from England.

Rose bit her tongue to keep back the retort as the gentleman at the counter flashed her a pleading look to let it slide. Then she passed him her ticket and headed out to the tarmac towards the stairs of the small plane. "Blimey that's small." She muttered to herself, hurrying along to get out of the wind and snow that was fluttering down around her.

She smiled at the friendly looking pilot who stood in the doorway of the cockpit, and she kept her eyes on the small rows to find her seat. It was at the very back of the plane, near the loos and tiny curtained stewardess area. "You have the row to yourself." The pretty brunette stewardess, whose nametag said Alana, told her. Rose nodded and reached up to shove her bag into the overhead compartment, but it wouldn't close.

"Excuse me." She touched Alana's arm. "It won't fit, can I just put it between my legs?"

"Of course." Alana smiled as she moved up the aisle and began checking the others. Rose pulled out her blanket and book, then settled into her seat to buckle in.

She glanced to her right and regretted it immediately. Mister Sunglasses was sitting across the aisle from her, scrolling through his phone. His head lifted for a moment, and she knew he saw her looking. That lip sneered up again, but whatever snide comment he was about to throw was cancelled out by Alana beginning the safety instructions.

Rose paid close attention, mostly to avoid any chance of having to glance over at the man across from her. This was technically her second flight, if she counted the larger plane as her first. So, she figured it would probably be best if she memorized the safety protocol again. Soon, the plane was taxiing down the runway.

"Sir, we need you to remove your sunglasses and put away all electronics." Alana was speaking to the man, blocking him from view. "At least until the pilot turns off the fasten seatbelt sign." She brushed past him to the curtained area.

Rose chanced a peripheral glance, watching in a bit of haughty satisfaction as the man, grumbling under his breath, did as he was told. She bit back a gasp of surprise as she his eyes became visible and quickly snapped her own eyes forward as the plane began lifting into the air. She knew why he looked so familiar, and she wondered if it would be a delicious payback to announce it to the entire plane or if it would just feed his ego.

The man was Jonathan Noble, also known as the golden boy of the theatre. He had been starring in plays since he was a child, even making it over into some Hollywood movies, before announcing that all he truly wanted was to produce and direct plays and movies. His plays had taken the British theatres by surprise, with all of his plays becoming international masterpieces. Just this past summer he had produced his first movie and it became a box office sensation world wide. All of this, combined with the fact that he was only thirty-two, had named him the most eligible bachelor in the United Kingdom.

Rose snorted under her breath, trying to pass it of as clearing the pressure from her ears. She wondered how it would affect his image if it got out how rude he was. She gripped her arm rests, thinking about instead of the way the small plane shook in the wind. She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the rest, and worked at relieving the pressure until the pilot announced they were at cruising altitude and that the passengers could move about the cabin shortly. She relaxed and pulled her blanket over her lap as she picked up her book. She would just focus on reading for the two hour flight.

"What would you like to drink, Miss." Alana was pushing a tiny refreshment tray.

"Do you have any wine?" The last flight hadn't, but maybe this one did. She wasn't an alcoholic, but a glass sure would settle her frayed and irritated nerves. She chippered up a bit, as her friendly stewardess began pouring her some into a small plastic cup from bottle of red.

"I'll have the same." The golden jerk spoke up from behind Alana. "Not that you can even call that wine. More like bitter grape juice with rubbing alcohol."

"Why don't you just shut the hell up, mate." Rose snapped as Alana rolled her eyes. "Unless you want me to announce to the entire plane who you are. I'm assuming by the sunglasses you were trying to fly incognito. I bet me screaming your name would really ruin your privacy at the resort." Rose didn't speak loudly, just stared at him from around Alana with the strongest look of contempt she could muster. Satisfaction surged through her, as he ducked lower in the seat and glowered at her.

"Don't you dare." He hissed back. "Don't you bloody do it." He kept glancing up the aisle, but everyone was preoccupied by their own drinks.

"Act like a proper human being for the next two hours." Rose settled back into her seat, letting the victory of the moment wash over her. "And I won't say a word about it." She sipped her wine and pulled the the tray down to set her cup on it. Returning her attention back to her book, she tried her best to relax and not pay attention to night racing past her window. Not that she could really see the night, as the snow was picking up and being illuminated by the lights in the aircraft.

Soon, the steady hum of the engines, the quiet atmosphere that had fallen over the passengers, and the wine had Rose feeling a bit drowsy. She tried to focus on her book, but after she reread the same sentence four times, she closed it and lifted her tray. She reclined her seat and let herself nap. She didn't fully sleep, every so often the words from the steward and stewardess sifted into the flitting images of her half dream state.

It was a good half dream, with her and Amy enjoying chips while shopping, but the sharp whisper of Jonathan's voice bit into it. "Why are we flying so low?"

Rose didn't open her eyes, trying to let herself sink deeper into sleep. The steward, Henry she thought, answered. "We're at a fine altitude Mr. Noble. If something was wrong, the pilot would announce it." The soft sound of his shoes were audible as he walked away. Then, the plane gave a lurch.

She jerked awake, as the fasten seatbelt sign dinged. "What the hell?" She blinked and looked around. "That was just turbulence yeah?"

"Ask the pilot." Jonathan snapped. "Because obviously I don't know what I'm talking about, even though I have a pilot's license myself." Rose looked over at him, expecting to see him sneering, but he was staring out the window. Well, not staring so much as his face was practically glued to the tiny hole as he squinted out.

"Ladies and gentleman. Due to the weather, we are experiencing some unexpected turbulence." The Alana's voice echoed calmly through the intercom system. "Please remain in your upright seats, put up your trays, and fasten your seat-belts."

Rose pressed the button to return her seat upright and clung to the armrests. The plane was jerking roughly around her, and she watched as Alana and Henry hurried to their seats at the front of the plane and strapped in. She swallowed her disdain for the man across from her to ask. "How low are we?"

"Too low." Jonathan replied, finally turning to look at her. "Stop talking to me."

"Asshole." She snapped back, as the plane dropped enough to make her lift a bit in her seat. "Shit!"

"What the hell are they doing?" Jonathan half shouted. Before anyone could formulate any sort of a response, the plane made another lurch to the right.

The frantic whispers of the other passengers was silenced by the sound of metal crunching, ripping, and tearing. Panic stabbed into Rose's stomach, as she saw what looked like a mountain cliff passed by Jonathan's window. Air masks dropped overhead just as the sound of an explosion echoed through the plane. "This can't be happening!" She screamed, as the front portion of the plane ripped open like a can if sardines.

"Head between your legs!" Jonathan's voice spurred her into action, and just as she was ducking, she felt another smash jolt through the cabin. Her last sight was the entire front half of the plane disappearing. Then, the night turned into an hellish ball of fire, and darkness claimed her without mercy.

 


	2. Chapter 2

It was dark, for the most part. There was the flickering yellow and light that faded in and out as Rose moved her head. It was also cold, insanely so, and hard to breathe. She was sprawled sideways, she realized as she finally opened her eyes, and the arm rest was pressed painfully into her side. She pushed herself up, wincing and coughing as she moved. It was hard to breathe because the air was filled with smoke that burned her lungs. As she looked ahead, she thought her heart stopped.

The entire front half of the plane was gone, exposing her row and the two rows in front of her to the debris littered snow ahead. Some of that debris, what looked like a wing, was on fire, but the other half of the plane was nowhere in visible sight.

"No, no, no, no." Rose gasped as she touched her head. There was a lump forming, but no blood. Then she checked the rest of her. Her side was sore, as was her left calf, but all in all she seemed to have escaped serious harm. "Hello!" She called out, hoping that someone would answer back, but there was no response. She undid her seatbelt, and stood up. It was too thick with smoke and dark to see anything except the blazing fires. She tried to slide out, but her carryon blocked her feet. Grunting, she lifted it to the seat in front of her.

With a jolt, she remembered Jonathan had been the only person in the back half of the plane with her. Holding the seats, she blindly fumbled over to his row. "Please don't be dead." She begged as she grabbed his arm. This close she could see him. He was slumped against the window, mouth slightly open, and what looked like blood trickling from his perfect hair. She checked her hands were shaking to hard to check his pulse, so Rose placed her hand on his chest. With an unexplained relief, she felt his heart beating strong against her palm.

She wasn't sure what to do, but everything inside of her was screaming at her to get him and herself out of the plane. Rose swallowed, trying to calm herself enough to think clearly. It was freezing cold outside, with the snow coming down steadily. Even if they made it out of the plane, they wouldn't survive in the cold thin mountain air without shelter or warm covers. Steeling herself, she quickly grabbed her bag and emptied it of everything except her blanket. She pulled on her heavy coat and zipped it up tight. Then, using her mobile flashlight, she pushed the curtain to the stewardess supply area aside and found some more thin blankets and pillows that normally got passed out on flights.

Stuffing those into her bag, she quickly snagged some of the snack peanuts and chips and bottles of water. Then she opened the overhead compartment marked first aid kit and grabbed that too. With all that zipped up, she returned to Jonathan. "Jonathan. Wake up." She shook him gently, and he groaned. "Jonathan, you seriously have to wake up. We need to move." She wanted to shake him harder, but fear of a head injury stopped her. His eyes fluttered half open, but they quickly slid shut again.

Rose growled out loud. She couldn't leave him there, but the smoke was making her dizzy. She fumbled into his overhead compartment and grabbed his thick overcoat. She undid his seatbelt, thanking every deity she could muster that he was a thin bloke, and began shoving his arms into the sleeves. Once he was effectively zipped up, she shouldered her pack and draped one of his arms over her shoulder.

Her head throbbed painfully at the effort, and her left calf ached as she moved, but she pushed it aside. Her thoughts were narrowed into one mantra "get off the plane. Get off the plane. Get off the plane." Chanting those words to herself, she laid him on the aisle, grabbed his legs, and began dragging him to the gaping opening at the front of the plane. She paused, afraid to find a sheer drop, but the angle at which the cabin was resting left no more than two feet below to the snow. Most of it had been brushed away as the plane had slid across the ground, and from here she could see the fire illuminating the snow drifts the crash had caused. She groaned, as she dropped down, stumbling.

Praying she didn't drop him, Rose turned and grabbed his ankles. It was a strain from this angle, but she managed to pull him over the ledge. He crashed into her, making her fall, but he still didn't regain consciousness. The snow wasn't falling as hard or fast as it had when they were in flight, but it was still coming down. She squinted into the night, trying to discern through the smoke which way held safety. Then, off to her left she saw the dark outline of trees. They were no more than two football fields away. Grunting, Rose pushed herself to her feet, adjusted her pack, and grabbed his ankles again.

She felt her heart racing, and her head spinning as she walked. Each step had her in fear of plummeting over a cliff, but she pushed herself onward. To her, if felt like a million days dragging him through the snow. She ached all over, but she didn't stop. She couldn't stop. The adrenaline coursing through her veins refused to let her quit. Finally, she felt the harsh hardness of a tree trunk against her arm. Breathing in relief, she trudged further under the protective canopy before she dropped his legs. Allowing herself a break, she paused to cough the rest of the harsh smoke from her lungs and breathe in the thin pure air. She knelt beside him again, checking his breathing and heart. Then, a gust of wind blew through the trees and she shivered.

"We're going to freeze to death." She realized with a jolt of fear. The blankets they had were not enough to truly keep them warm. She needed a fire, but she didn't know how to make one. She dug out the first aid kit, but there were no matches or lighters inside. She didn't think there would be. Shining her mobile light around the snow, she fought back the panic. Something a little ways away caught her eye. What looked like a snow drift had limbs poking out of it.

Rose scrambled to her feet and hurried over to it. Brushing the snow away with her now numb palms, she saw that it was a tree that had fallen. The limbs were old and brittle, and she was able to snap them off with some effort. An idea sprung to life in her mind. She had fire! There was fire burning just up the ways at the plane. A new mantra took root in her mind, "Build a fire. Build a fire. Build a fire." She began snapping off more branches, and then she began dragging them back to where she had left Jonathan.

Using the limbs, her feet, and her hands, she cleared a spot in the snow. She piled the branches she had up, snd then she went back for more. By the time she had finished, she had a well packed pile of sticks in the clear spot, and another pile off to the side. Thinking back on the survival reality shows her mum watched, Rose had stripped the bark and leaves from nearly everything and shoved them inside the fire pile for kindling. "Here we go." Rose snagged a thicker branch that she had left leaves on, and trudged up to the plane.

Once she cautiously approached the flames, she realized that her fear of explosion was unfounded. Rose could tell that the wing that was nearby had already exploded, and all that was burning now was the fuel that had leaked out. The heat was almost overwhelming, but she shoved the branch into the flames. Once it was ablaze, she turned and ran as hard as she could on her sore leg back to her fire pile. She shoved it into the base, pleading to the universe to let it catch. After a moment, the fire was burning strong.

Rose settled back, feeling a bit triumphant in her fast thinking. The firelight reflected off of Jonathan's face. It was pale, and the blood had stopped dripping from his hair. It was beginning to look a bit frozen, she realized. "This'd be easier if you woke up." She grunted to the unconscious man. Now that she had light, she could really see into the first aid kit. She dug out some alcohol wipes and bandages. She gingerly check his head finding a small gash, but it didn't look deep or in need of stitches. She wouldn't be able to tell until daylight. Carefully, she wiped it clean and covered it with a bandage.

Once everything was packed back in the kit, Rose moved them both closer to the fire. She pulled out the blankets, covered his legs up well, and then wrapped herself in what was left. She knew she had to stay awake, to feed the fire. She checked her mobile. Luckily she had charged it during the layover, so it was only a little over ninety percent. There was no reception at all, though, so she flipped it into battery saving mode and tucked it back into her pocket. She checked her watch. The time, which she had preset to match the resort's, said it was half passed two. Their flight had left at ten.

She wondered where the rest of the plane had landed. Did the rest of the passengers make it? If they did, had they radioed for help? Had the black box survived if they didn't? Where the hell were they exactly? How long would it take for the small airport they were destined for to dispatch a search party? Over and over she asked herself these questions. The adrenaline was wearing off, and she was sleepy. "No, Rose, you can't sleep." She scolded herself when her eyelids drooped.

Rose pushed her aching, shivering body up, and headed back to the fallen tree. "Just pretend you're out camping with Mickey, Amy, and Rory." She told herself. If it wasn't for the cold, it would have been easy to pretend that's exactly what she was doing. "That's all this is. You're just getting firewood, while they wait back at camp." She bit back the pain in her side as she pulled one of the larger limbs, about as big around as her leg. It bent and cracked, but didn't break free. She sat down in the snow, pushing at it with her feet. With a resounding snap, it broke free. She drug it back to the fire and busied herself with bending it and breaking it more pieces for the fire.

Rose settled back onto the frozen ground, wrapping herself up in the blankets as best as she could. Soon, though, sleep was tugging at her again. She jerked awake after what felt like a blink, only to find that the fire had burned half of the original pile of wood away. "Damn it." She groaned, checking her watch. She had been asleep almost an hour and a half. She added more logs to the fire, stoking it with a branch, and checked on Jonathan. He was still out, but some of the color was returning to his face. He felt warm enough, where he was wrapped and covered, so she let him be.

"This is absolutely not the vacation I had in mind." Rose huffed, and she rewrapped herself up next to the fire. She glanced back through the trees, but the flames from the plane seemed to be slowly dying out. "Maybe when it's light, I can go see what else is salvageable." She sighed. There probably wasn't much, but if anything it could provide shelter from the elements. Her eyelids grew heavy again, and this time she didn't have the strength to keep them open.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

He wasn't sure what woke him first. It may have been the pounding in his head, or it might have been the overwhelming urge to pee. Both seemed to be waging for dominance of his attention. What caught his attention apart from that was the smell of a camp fire and the numbness in his cheeks and hands. Jon blinked his eyes open, groaning as his vision swam, but when his sight focused in on tree branches in early predawn light he gasped. Like a slap, the memory of what happened crashed into his mind.

He had been on a plane, and had realized the pilot was flying far too low and too close to the mountains. He had watched through the window as the wing had collided with the edge of a cliff. He remembered screaming for everyone to put their heads between their knees, but there had been an explosion before he could do it himself. He thought there was a point where someone had spoken to him, but it wasn't clear. Still, he realized he wasn't on the plane anymore. Jon was laying on the hard ground in his coat and covered with blankets. He touched his head, where the aching seemed to be radiating from, and felt the stiff material of a bandage.

He slowly moved his arms and legs, feeling for any other injuries, but apart from feeling like he had been in a plane crash, nothing felt broken. He cautiously pushed himself to his feet. There was a fire burning, looking distressingly low on wood, and a black and green rucksack looking bag was discarded near his feet. Then he saw her. The blonde girl from the plane, the one who looked like just another estate statistic, was curled up on the ground on the other side of the fire. Behind her was a pile of fire wood. Jon realized that the steward or stewardess had probably moved them away from the plane for safety, but they were nowhere in sight.

"Probably went back to monitor the radio." He huffed. He tested his theory that nothing was too badly hurt by taking a fee cautious steps. Sore, but like he thought, nothing broken. Jon stepped past the girl, grabbed some wood from the pile, and placed it on the fire. Then he shuffled into the tree line to relieve himself. He was just finishing up when he finally looked past the trunks. The plane was there, or at least part of it was.

Sitting like a eviscerated animal in the snow was the back half of the plane. Debris was littered around it, but what took him by surprise the most was the half filled with snow path. There was what looked like a trail of something that had been dragged. Then, from the trees to the still smoking wing, was one set of foot prints. There was no one else in sight. "Impossible." He snorted. "She's so small. There's no way she could have."

Jon pushed through the trees, pausing as the world swam when his head throbbed. He reached the plane, and looked into the cabin. "Hello?!" He called, but there was no answer. "Anybody?!" The only sound was the wind. Shivering, he staggered back to the fire. The girl was still curled up. In the growing light, he could see that she had a raised bruise forming on her forehead. Around the fire was the same set of prints he had seen by the plane, and it led a ways into the woods to what looked like a fallen tree. Snow had been brushed off of if, and limbs had been broken off.

Realization stunned him. There was no steward or stewardess. This girl had somehow had the wherewithal to get not only herself from the plane but him as well, drag him to safety, start a fire, and bandage his head. He moved back to the fire, to stare down on her. He tried to keep his lip from pulling up in annoyance as he took her in again. From her processed blonde hair to her retail jeans, she didn't seem impressive in the slightest. It wasn't that she wasn't attractive, because there was something about her wide, full lips and sculpted cheekbones that gave her an unconventional prettiness. Her hands were scraped a bit, and she was shivering something fierce. Still, he owed her his life. If she had left him in that plane, he probably would have succumbed to hypothermia.

Jon wasn't sure how long she had been asleep, but he crouched down next to her and shook her shoulder. "Hey blondie. Wake up."

"Huh?" Her voice was weak, and her lips cracked as they pulled apart. He could see that some blue was beginning for form in the corners of her lips

"Wake up before you freeze to death." He shook her harder. This time her eyes fluttered open, and he was taken a back a bit. In the lights of the airport and the plane, they had appeared a flat brown color. In the firelight and growing dawn they were a rich honey color flecked with hazel.

"Y-y-you're awake." Her teeth chattered as she sat up, rubbing her face and brushing her hair from her eyes. "How's your head? You okay?" There was an earnest concern in here voice that shocked him.

"Sore." Jon huffed as he scooted back from her and closer to the fire. "I assume you're the one responsible for the bandage." He knew he snapped, but that had become his normal response over the last few years.

"Yeah, I am." The woman shot him a death glare as she stoked the fire with a limb. "Normal humans say 'thank you'." She huffed.

"Whatever." Jon pulled his coat tighter around him. Close to the fire, the chill wasn't as bone deep, but he was still close to freezing. "Anyone else make it?" He knew he should thank her, but honestly he couldn't sum up the effort.

"We were the only ones I found." Her voice was quiet, as she glanced up at the wreckage visible through the trees. "I meant to go check at first light, but I fell asleep." He noticed that she winced as she moved, favoring her left side. She was digging into the bag now, and produced two half frozen bottles of water and some peanuts. She tossed him one of each. "Breakfast."

"Not much of one." Jon caught the bottle and undid the cap. He hadn't realized he was thirsty until he took a sip. The water ached his teeth, though, and he recapped the bottle and laid it near the fire. He didn't have the stomach to eat just yet. "Well, Blondie, I'm gonna go back up and check the wreckage again." He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the way his muscles protested. Not waiting to see if she followed, he trekked up the slope to the crash site.

What he had seen before hadn't changed. Everything held an eerie silence to it, and he trudged his way around the destroyed cabin looking for any other sign of life. There wasn't any to be found, so he went to the gaping opening and pulled himself up into the dim interior of the plane. "Idiots." He growled. "I knew they were flying too low." Jon had tried to warn the steward, but it hadn't worked. Now he was stuck in the middle of nowhere. He pulled his carryon from the overhead container, although there wasn't much in there except his hygiene kit, an extra change of clothes, and the folder holding the rough ideas he was devising for a new script.

In the stewardess area, he found more water, some tiny bottles of liquor, and more of the same small airline snacks. It may be enough for him to survive a day or two on the mountain, but that was it. He shoved them into his carryon and began opening the other compartments. He found two small bookbags with some clothes that obviously belonged to the stewardess and steward, but he couldn't help but grin when his fingers closed around one of those all purpose pocket knives that had scissors, screwdriver, pliers, and corkscrew.

"Jonathan!" The woman's voice shouting his name made him jerk. He hadn't told her his name, but then he realized he hadn't need to. She had recognized him on the flight. "Jonathan come here now!"

Jon rolled his eyes and headed back up the aisle with his find, and he dropped to the snow. She was standing on the other side of the smoking wing, staring out at the sky. He huffed his way over, and found her staring downwards. "What?"

"Look." She pointed, and he followed her finger.

A few feet in front of her, the snow ended in a sharp drop. At this angle, it was easy to see. From where he had been walking, the mountain side across the gap had given the illusion of connecting to where they were. At the bottom of the drop, about three stories down and a few hundred feet across the gap was the rest of the plane. It was smashed into the side of the mountain, looking all too much like a mangled pile of metal. He didn't even have to wonder if anyone had survived. It was impossible. It also ruined his plans to track down the radio and try to call for a rescue.

"They're dead." Jon shook his head and turned away from the sight. He began making his way back to the fire. He knew it was pointless to worry about them. He was alive. There was a fire, and he was going back to it to stay warm. Not to mention, his head was pounding.

"That's it. That's all you have to say?" Blondie was following him. "They're dead. Are you even a flippin human, or are you some emotionless drone?"

He didn't satisfy her with an answer. Jon just flopped down next to the fire and picked through the items he had brought back. Number one rule of a plane crash, he had learned while in flying classes, was to compile your supplies and stay in one spot. Blondie was glowering at him. He could nearly feel the heat from her disapproval burning into his neck. "Sit down and conserve your energy." He ordered her flatly. "Cold drains your body faster than you realize." He flicked his eyes up at her for a moment before adding. "And be quiet. I'm trying to think."

"Think about what?" She stomped over to the fire and added a few more bits of wood. "We're in the back of bloody beyond. What could you possibly be thinking about."

Jon rolled his eyes at her and shook his head. "How long it should take before the rescue crews are in the air searching for us. Would help if I knew what time it was."

"Seven oclock." She shot back. He looked up at her in surprise. He had checked his phone, but the lack of reception had left him with an indication of not being able to discern the time. Blondie held her wrist up, and a cheap watch face reflected back at him.

"Search parties should be in the air by ten." He wasn't really talking to her, he told himself. He was just talking out loud. "If we're lucky, the idiot pilot will have radioed in how bad the turbulence was. That should tell any nearby airports our general location." Jon ran his hand through his hair, but he winced when he hit the bruised area that was bandaged. "And if we are extra lucky, we should be in a helicopter before sundown."

"And if we aren't lucky?" She asked the question like she knew the answer.

"We spend another night on the mountain with this tiny fire and hope we don't freeze." Jonathan arched an eyebrow at her, expecting to see her break down in a panic. Instead her eyes held his with cool determination and just a little bit of contempt. That was good, because he needed her rational if she wanted to survive. "Now sit down and shut up." This time, she did as she was told.

 


	4. Chapter 4

"Just stay here, Blondie." Jonathan told the girl as he adjusted the larger jeans he had pulled over his own and slid his jacket back on. Luckily that male steward, Henry, had a been a few sizes bigger than him. His clothes had slid right over Jon's own. "I'm going to go walk a little ways down the slope and see if I can't spot a village or a ranger station or something." He turned away from her, taking a few steps. Now that the sun was up, the temperatures had risen. The wind was still biting, but they were above freezing finally.

"My name is Rose, not Blondie." She quipped at him. "And I'm really starting to regret not leaving your snotty arse in that plane to freeze to death."

Jon smirked a bit at her retort, but he didn't turn around. The girl was a spitfire, he'd give her that. "Well keep that fire going, Blondie. I'll be back in a bit." With that he crunched away through the snow.

He flicked the blade of the knife out, marking tree trunks as he passed. It was something he had learned in a movie he had coproduced. The farther he went, the thicker the trees grew. Jon knew his attempt to track down a village or something was a bit futile. He had a sneaking suspicion that they were far from anywhere. Like Rose had called it, they were in the back of beyond.

He kept moving, trying to keep his blood flowing, but the farther he went the more he realized it was a futile effort. He was just exhausting himself, making his head ache worse, and the cold was turning his face and fingers dangerously numb. Jon estimated he had been gone almost an hour, but the knee deep snow, thin air, and cold probably hadn't let him get more than a two or three kilometers. He was already winded, despite being in excellent shape from running marathons most of his life. The forest didn't seem to be thinning out anytime soon, and through the branches overhead, he could see the gray clouds forming.

"Damn it. More snow will just slow down the rescue." Jon grumbled. Sighing aloud, he tucked his fingers into his armpits and turned to begin trudging back to where Rose and the fire were waiting. Although, if those clouds were as ominously heavy with snow as they looked, that fire may not survive. Following his trail in the snow and markings on the trees, he hiked. It was harder this way, as the path was at a steady incline. Soon, the wind began to pick up, and snow was falling through the gaps in the leaves.

"This is not how things are supposed to go." He half shouted to the empty forest around him. "Take a vacation, the shrink said." Jon kicked out at the snow. "Get away from the stress and recharge. Ha! This is as far from stress as you can get."

He had been going, with hardly a break, since his first play at thirteen. Now, nineteen years later, he was exhausted. His exhaustion had been affecting his work, blanking out the ideas and storylines that had once filled his mind. He was supposed to have at least two new scripts to turn in to his production company by April. Here it was, the middle of December, and he hadn't even figured out the first one yet. That's what this whole trip was supposed to solve. He was supposed to get away from everyone for two weeks, and see if relaxation and clean mountain air would jog his creative juices. "Well, there's plenty of mountain air, at least." He scoffed.

Brooding over the situation didn't help it at all, but it made the hike back pass more quickly. He could smell the smoke of the fire up ahead, as the trees began to thin, and soon the small campfire was visible. He came to a stop, as what he saw shocked him. Rose had obviously raided more of the wreckage.

The refreshment cart was sitting near the fire, with the top part piled high with the last of the snacks, water, wine, and liquor. The curtain that normally covered the bottom half had been removed, and he could see she had stuffed that area with the black trash bags, plastic cups, and plastic utensils. Her blonde hair and pink jacket were nowhere in sight. "Oi, Blondie!" He called out, stepping into the area. From here he could see she had pushed more of the snow away, creating a wall of snow around the tiny campsite.

"My name is Rose." Her voice echoed sharply from the wreckage. "And come here. I need your help!"Jon picked up the pace and headed up to the plane. She was inside the plane, and there was the sound of her pulling at something.

"What are you doing, you crazy woman?" Jon pulled himself up to find another shock. She had ripped the curtains down from the stewardess area, and was currently trying to take the cabinet doors off.

"Getting stuff to make a shelter, what does it look like?" She grunted. "It's snowing again, and if we stay in here the fire will go out. If we stay out there without cover, we'll freeze to death." Rose was pulling hard at a cabinet door, but it wasn't coming loose. Jon crossed his arms and watched. "Thought about moving the fire in here, but I don't know how safe that would be." Her hands slipped and she stumbled back into the wall.

"Stop, just stop." Jon pulled her out of the way and flipped open the screwdriver portion of the utility knife. "We can unscrew them." He began working at the screws holding the hinges to the door.

"Where'd you get that?" Rose huffed, leaning against the wall, holding her side.

"In the steward's bag." He shrugged, freeing the first cabinet door and moving to the next.

"His name was Henry." Rose pulled the cabinet door away from him and set it on the curtain. "I'm guessing your search for help was futile." She sounded a bit superior when she said that, but Jon didn't turn to look at her. Honestly, as resourceful as she was, the woman was a annoyingly good at throwing his own attitude back at him.

"Ya think?" He managed to free the second and third door. "Take this back near the fire and let me work."

"Fine." She piled the other four doors he'd gotten free onto the curtain and began dragging it down the aisle. Soon she disappeared from view.

"I have no idea what kind of shelter that woman thinks she can make with these." He shook his head as he unscrewed the remaining three cabinet doors. He carried them one by one to the opening and tossed them out to the snow. His head was still aching, and he wondered if there was any paracetamol in that first aid kit. Jon dropped down to the ground himself, picked up the doors, and began trudging back to the fire.

He shook his head when he found Rose bracing the cabinet doors against the tree trunk closest to the fire. "Not much of a shelter."

"You got a better idea?" She shot him another glare.

He was about to shoot an insult her way when he looked up. The tree had a low branch that extended straight out over the fire. It was only just out of his reach, but an idea struck him hard. "Gimme the curtain and one of those limbs you piled up." Rose did as he asked, and he quickly tied the curtain to the stick. "Stand to the side." As soon as she moved, he tossed the stick over the limb and it landed just on the other side of the fire. "Now stretch this side out while I do the other." Jon went around and untied the curtain from the stick. With Rose on the other end they managed to stretch the curtain over the fire in a crude version of a tent. "We have to find a way to weight it down and block off one of the openings."

"I'll put the cart on this end for now." Rose called to him. It was a good idea. "Maybe we can find a rock or something to do that end."

"Hurry up." Jon yelled back. The wind was picking up, blowing the snow around them harder. Another idea hit him. Once Rose came around, after obviously pushing the cart onto the other side. "Stand here." Once she was keeping this end weighted down, he grabbed the bags and emptied them out inside the haphazard shelter. Then he began packing them full of snow. He pressed the snow down, so it made the bags heavy, and carried them back to where she was standing. They worked well in keeping the curtain from flapping in the wind.

"I'll grab the firewood." She huffed, hurrying to the pile. "See if you can't get those cabinet doors to block the opening on the tree side."

Jon didn't like being bossed around, but he kept the retort he was forming to himself. He was freezing cold and wanted nothing more than to get back into the gradually warming interior. Once inside, he went to work trying to brace the cabinet doors as a barriee. They wouldn't stay up. "It's not working."

Rose dropped the last pile of wood down just inside the entrance on the other side. "Just leave it for now. The wind is blowing past the openings anyways." She flopped down close to the fire, grabbing a bottle of water. "It's just after twelve. Let's take a break and see if the wind doesn't die down a bit."

Jon did so as well, heaving a sigh. She was right. The wind wasn't blowing into the tent, so much as around it. Already he could see the snow beginning to drift around the shadows of the snow filled bags. It was coming into their tent some, but the thick blue material was blocking most of it. He saw her extending her hands out over the flames, as if to warm them. "Stop!" He shouted, and she yanked her hands back. "Look, Blondie, I'm guessing this is your first trip out somewhere as cold as this, but I've been coming to the mountains since I was a kid. You have to warm your hands and feet gradually. So stick them between your thighs or under your arms." He wasn't saying it because he was concerned for her well being, he told himself, so much as she wouldn't be useful if she ended up damaging her hands and feet.

"Right." Rose shivered as she tucked her palms under her arms. She stared at the fire for a moment before flashing those honey eyes up at him. "Listen. We're stuck here for a bit. How about you drop the asshole act, huh? I'm not one of your stage hands or set crew you can boss around." She shook her head at him before jabbing her index finger in his direction. "I saved your life. I made this bloody fire. How about you act a little bit grateful instead of like a spoiled brat, yeah?"

Jon couldn't help but arch his eyebrow at her. Obviously she was the kind of woman who wasn't afraid to spit back anything thrown at her. He was so used to people trying to buy, beg, or shag their way into getting him to be nice. He knew, by the set of her jaw, that this woman, Rose, would never lower herself to such methods. It was as refreshing as it was irritating. He grabbed a bottle of water himself and took a sip. After laying so close to the flames, the ice inside had melted, and it wasn't as biting cold as before. He snagged a granola bar from the ground and held it out to her. "Eat."

"Not hungry." She was still glowering at him.

"Lack of appetite is a sign if hypothermia. Your lips are turning purple and your face is windburned." He tossed the green wrapped bar into her lap. "Make yourself eat, Rose." Jon figured that was thanks enough. When she began unwrapping the scant meal, he picked one up himself.

"I don't think we're getting off this mountain tonight." She sighed. "And we're going to need more firewood. I can't break those bigger branches off."

Jon nodded, watching as she nibbled the first bite and then took a bigger bite. "I may be able to. If not, maybe we can get some of that metal that ripped off the wing and make a saw or something." He honestly didn't know if he could, but they'd have to try. "I saw some more fallen branches on my walk. We can track those down and use them too." Rose nodded and let out a heavy breath. Despite the attitude she had been throwing at him, she looked exhausted. Jon tossed her a fluffy pink blanket that obviously belonged to her. "Lay down, but stay close to the fire. I'll stay awake."

Rose wrapped the blanket around herself and shook her head. "I can't. I have to stay awake." She stared at the fire, a strange expression on her face. Her lips were turning more pink, now that the warmth of the fire was filling their tent.

"I'll keep the fire going." Jon snorted. Did she think he didn't know how to do that? Just because he was rich, it didn't mean he was incapable of manual labor.

"It's not that." Rose sighed, recapping her water bottle. "I'm afraid if I do go to sleep, I won't wake up." She shifted the blanket around her knees and rubbed her eyes.

Well, that was a whole other topic, and for some reason he felt a twinge of something he hadn't felt in a long time: sympathy. "Give me your watch." He held out his hand and tried to muster half of a smile. "I'll check on you every fifteen minutes, and if I think you're in danger of not waking up, I'll make sure you do."

Rose's eyes were incredulous, as she met his. She slowly undid the strap on her wrist. "How do I know you won't just let me die?"

"I'm an jerk, not a murderer." Jon rolled his eyes and shoved his hand at her again. "Come on Blon-Rose. I won't let you just die." He closed his fingers around the watch as she placed it in his palm, and pulled it to him. "Now sleep." He watched as she conceded and curled up close enough to the fire to be warm, but far enough away to not catch the blanket in the flames. When her eyes closed, he looked down at the tiny time hands behind the glass, fought back his own tiredness, and listened hard for the sound of an aircraft over the wind.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

"Rose, wake up." Someone was shaking Rose and half shouting. Well, she thought they were shouting, but their voice sounded very far away. Some detached part of her knew she should be cold, but she felt blissfully warm. "Rose! You have to wake up now!" She felt her body being shaken again. Rose didn't want to wake up, but there was a nagging pull at her brain that told her she had to. She forced her eyes open, finding a pair of rich brown ones staring down into hers. They were full of panic. Her brain groggily searched for a name to go with the eyes.

"Jonathan, what's wrong?" Her voice cracked as she spoke, and when she tried to lift her head she felt like it took all of her energy. The relief that pooled across his features was an odd look for his normally cross face.

"I've been trying to wake you up for almost ten minutes." He pulled her into a sitting position and held her there, which was helpful because her legs felt odd. "Can you sit up on your own?"

Rose nodded, shifting her legs and crossing them. "Yeah, yeah. I'm good." She rubbed her face and winced as her cheeks tingled like they were asleep. She blinked as his hands pulled back, and she realized that it was darker inside than before. Surprisingly, it was also a bit warmer now that she was off of the cold ground. There was also a strange smell, almost like boiling meat.

"You're far from good." Jonathan snorted, and he pushed one of the plastic cups into her hand. It was warm, but not blazing hot. "Drink that. Slowly, now."

Rose took a sip and almost blanched at the taste. It was a weird flavor, like unseasoned broth of some sort. She held the cup up at eye level and squinted at it in the firelight. It was cloudy. "What the hell is this?" She sniffed it, finding that it was the source of the boiled meat smell. She forced herself to choke down another mouthful.

"Something to raise your core body temperature." Jon made a gagging noise himself, and she saw him shove a plastic spoon in his mouth and chew.

It may have tasted like crap, but it did warm her stomach up. "Where did you find meat?" She looked harder at the fire, where it looked like he had shoved a metal coffee pot in the wood. It had a lid that was kept slightly up by what looked like a whittled stick.

"It stopped snowing shortly after you fell asleep, so I went out for more firewood." Jonathan paused to force another bite down. "And I found these animal tracks. They looked kinda like rabbit or squirrel or something." He paused to take a sip of water. "So I brought the firewood back, took the laces from those extra shoes from the stewardess' bag and made a snare."

"You made a trap and caught something." Rose managed an incredulous snort. "Golden boy of the theatre knows how to make a snare?"

"I wasn't born famous you know." Jonathan's gave her what she could only call a superior look. "My mum's side of the family is British, but my dad's side is from the States. His side liked to hunt and such. I remember some of what I learned before they split and my mum moved me to London permanently." He set his empty cup aside and lifted the lid to stir the contents inside. "Give me your cup."

Rose passed it to him and watched in morbid fascination as he poured more of the flavorless broth inside, this time with what looked like small chunks of grayish meat. He handed it back to her with a spoon and refilled his own cup. "Thanks." She shoved a spoonful in her mouth. To distract herself from the taste. She looked around the small shelter. Jonathan had obviously been busy when she was sleep.

The pile of firewood had been added to significantly, and their scarce supplies had been piled neatly into a corner. What surprised her most was that the opening nearest the tree had been blocked, except for an opening near the top about the size of a cricket ball. What was blocking it was a huge pile of snow. It didn't look drifted, so much as packed into place. Two large branches had been buried upright at the other entrance, and the cabinet doors were resting on the other side of them, stopping about halfway to the top. Beyond them she could see the fading light of sunset through the trees.

"There's two more sticks on the otherside holding them in place." Jonathan explained, as he saw her looking. "It should keep the heat in some, but it's not sealed so." He shrugged his shoulders. She noted that he was looking windburned and tired himself. "Just lift them up one by one to get out."

"Not to stroke your already gigantic ego, Jonathan, but that is a really good idea." Rose was impressed. She wouldn't have thought of that. Then again, before she passed out she was pretty certain they were going to die regardless.

"Of course it is." For the first time, he smiled. It was a self pleased, teeth baring, flash of a thing. For a brief moment she saw why all the other girls fawned over him. He was rather attractive when he smiled. "I also piled snow up using the other four doors and some sticks on each side of the tent. Hopefully it will keep most of the wind out."

"So no helicopter huh?" She had to ask, but she tried not to sound like she was jabbing at his earlier predictions.

"I saw one, off to the east, just before sunset. It was too far away to signal." His lip twitched a bit. "Your color's coming back." The man was a master at changing subjects.

"I'm warmer, thanks to the, er, soup." Rose shifted the blanket around her, but she still couldn't get the chill out of her hands and feet. Her toes still felt numb. She looked down at her trainers and realized that the mesh material was wet. "Okay, Mr-I'm-Experienced-With-Cold, if your clothes are wet you're supposed to take em off, yeah?" She tapped her feet with one finger.

"Yeah." He moved the blanket he had draped over his own lap and exposed his own feet. They were clad in a pair of old faded socks that more than likely weren't his. "Changed into Henry's when I started cooking." He pulled his feet back under the blanket and pointed to one side of the fire. He had laid out one of the small trashbags and pointed to a pair of red converse that were sitting on it. Some plain black socks were also spread out. "I was gonna take yours off, but didn't think you'd appreciate being woken up by a strange man stripping you down." Again, there was that hint of a smile. So the man did have a warm side.

Rose quickly undid her laces and pulled her shoes off. Then she stripped out of her socks. Her feet were an angry red color, but the tips of her toes were turning whitish. "I don't think that's good."

Jonathan shifted over and made this weird strangled sound. "Jesus, Rose. Can you feel your toes?" For the first time, panic spiked in her stomach at the tone of his voice. "Don't move them any closer to the fire, okay, just." His eyes went wild as he looked around at their now crowded hovel. "Shit, just." He set his empty cup aside and moved to cram in beside her. "This is gonna hurt." His fingers wrapped around her damp feet. They should only have felt warm, but to her they were blazing hot. She fought back to urge to yank them away, as stabs of pain shot up into her legs. "Show me your fingers." The urgency in his voice made her immediately hold her fingers up. "They're good." He sighed.

"Frostbite?" It was not a word she'd ever imagined herself saying. "It's frostbite isn't it?" She swallowed hard. She'd learned about frostbite in school. Bad cases could mean amputation. Fear threatened to chill the hot meal in her stomach.

"No, not yet, but close to it." He rubbed her feet slowly, with small circles starting at her toes and moving up her feet. "I know it hurts, but we have to get circulation back into the extremities before ice crystals form in your veins." His voice had a strange tone to it. Rose couldn't call it fear, but something close to it.

Rose kept her mouth shut. Yes, the circulation coming back to her feet was painful, but it was better than having her toes cut off. Jonathan wasn't looking at her, but she could see the muscle in his jaw twitching as he concentrated on his work. After a long, tense bout of quiet, he softly lowered her feet back to the ground and passed her a pair of dry socks from the pile of clothes and extra blankets. "It's good that I can feel the cold on my feet now, yeah?"

"Yep." He popped the p as he rubbed his face. "Just set your stuff here and let them dry." Jonathan shifted back to his spot. His brow was furrowed as he picked up the coffee pot from the flames using the stirring stick to pull it by the handle. He poured the rest of the soup stuff into her cup before rinsing it out with some of the bottled water. He set it off to the side and stuck some more wood into the flames. "We should sleep together."

Rose almost choked on the final mouthful of their dinner. "Excuse me?" Sleep together? They were stuck on the side of a mountain, probably about to die from exposure, and he wanted to sleep with her. Not to mention, the man was a complete and utter arse.

"Sharing body heat, bloody hell." His eyes blew wide as he realized how she took it. "It's the number one rule of survival in the cold. Didn't you learn anything at school?" Gone was the previously sympathetic look, and in it's place was that condescending superior look. "Or did you even finish school?"

That was it. "Finish this, dickhead." Rose went up on her knees, reached across the fire, and slapped him. "Who do you think you are, judgin' me?"

"Christ, woman!" Jonathan rubbed his cheek. "That hurt." His cheeks were already pink, but she could see the outline of her fingers forming. She braced herself, expecting a slap in return. His attitude seemed the type, but the hit never came.

Rose was livid. No, she hadn't finished school. She had gone back and gotten her equivalency through night classes. Still, she was planning on signing up for uni in the spring. "I don't know what kind of woman you think I am, but let's get this straight. Out here, you don't have your money or your paid peasants who cater to your every whim." She was shocked when he met and held her eyes. "We're two humans, one fire away from freezing to death. So you can take that holier than though attitude and shove it up your arse."

Rose had heard the term pregnant silence before, but it was the first time he ever experienced it. Jonathan was staring at her with a bewildered look, then his lip twitched. Suddenly he was laughing, a tear leaking, side holding outburst. "You've got fire." He wiped his eyes, and they sparkled in the firelight. Instead of focusing on her face, they were roving over her body as if he were truly looking at her for the first time. It wasn't a rakish look, more like a jeweler trying to see if a necklace was real or fake.

"I slap you, and your reaction is to say I've got fire?" She snorted and flopped back down. Now she was confused and insulted. "You're supposed to apologize." She crossed her arms and glowered at him. A man hadn't manage to get her this pissed off since Jimmy. No, she wasn't going to think about that.

"Apologize for being right?" He lowered his hand from his cheek and cocked one of those perfect eyebrows at her. "Because I'm right, aren't I?" He smirked at her now, and the confirmation of his thoughts on his face had her boiling inside. "What are you, eighteen, nineteen? Left school for a guy and then he dumped you so you went back and took the equivalency test? You work as a salon girl, maybe a cashier at a butchers?" He was so close that it wasn't fair. "Estate girl your whole life? How'd you afford this trip?"

"I'm twenty-one." Rose growled, cutting him off and meeting his gaze. She refused to be shamed for where and how she was raised, for the mistakes she had made. She was working like hell to fix them. "And I work at Henrick's." His smirk grew wider. "And yes, I grew up in the estates. What of it?"

"What was his name? The guy you left school for?" The antagonistic look on his face was just itching for another slap. "He dump you for another girl?"

"I dumped Jimmy, and he's in jail." As soon as the words left her lips, she regretted bringing them up. The phantom pain ached briefly along the scar on her chest, where the knife had cut two years ago. She must have physically made some movement, because his smirk faded and that analyzing look was back. Then, he frowned. It was a real frown, not the irritated grumpy frown he had constantly worn.

"Sorry." The word was so soft Rose thought she imagined it. "I didn't think that it was that kind of exboyfriend. You're so, I don't know, ferocious that I just assumed he cheated." Jonathan ran a hand through his hair.

The rage inside of Rose simmered as his eyes flicked down to the fire. He knew, one argument, and he had figured her all out. "How'd you know? I didn't say why he's in jail."

"Your eyes." Jonathan didn't meet her gaze this time. "This whole time since I woke up, I haven't seen fear on your face once, not even when you said you were afraid to not wake up." He poked at the fire with a stick, then looked up at her through his lashes. "When you said his name, your eyes got wide, and you sort of curled in on yourself." Silence settled between them for a few heartbeats, and then he met her gaze full on. "I'm sorry I brought him up."

Rose wasn't sure how she knew, but he was being sincere. "Forget about it." She huffed out a sigh and shoved her hands in her pockets. When they touched her mobile, she jerked and pulled it out. The screen showed that the battery had only dropped to eighty-five percent. "Did yours make it?" She wiggled her phone at him.

"Huh?" He blinked then raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. There's no reception though." He reached into his pants pocket and pulled it out. "Seventy-five percent." Then his eyes lit up. "Rose, I have a brilliant idea. Turn yours off, to save the battery."

"Um, okay." Confused, she powered it down. "Why?"

"I was going to suggest sleeping in shifts before, to make sure the fire was going." He flicked through the screen. "But what if I set a two hour timer, so we can both sleep and wake up to feed the fire." The man was a bloody genius. "Now, don't take this the wrong way, but we need to strip down to just our first two layers of clothes."

Rose opened her mouth to refuse, but she realized he was right. The more layers they had on, the less warmth they would be sharing. "Right. So, where are we going to sleep? There isn't much room."

"Over here where I'm at." He stood up and lifted the blankets he was on. Underneath was a triple layer of the trashbags, stuffed with leaves and paper napkins from the plane. "They'll help insulate our bodyheat. Then we layer the blankets over us, with your pink fluffy one on top."

Rose felt a bit skeptical, but she knew this was their best shot. "All right." She stood and shed her two coats, leaving just her longsleeve shirt and jeans. She laid them out flat where she had been sitting then made her way over to his side of the fire. She watched as he fed three more pieces of wood, about as thick as her thigh, into the fire. When she sat down, she could feel how the leaves and napkins had already kept some of his heat.

Jonathan shed his long coat, pinstriped jacket, jumper, and extra layer of jeans, and laid on his side, facing the fire. "Lay down." Rose curled up in front of his chest, trying to find a comfortable position. Now that she was warm and semi-full, she was finding the ground less appealing that before her earlier nap. He pulled the blankets over them, and then to her surprise, draped an arm over her waist and pulled her snuggly to his body. "We have to be this close." He was saying it like he expected her to make a comment.

Rose tucked the blankets tight under her side and rested her head on her arms. He was right. This was much warmer. The silence was deafening, broken only by the crackle of the wood. She had a question that had been aching in her chest since she woke up an hour or so before. "Jonathan?" He gave a sleepy sounding grunt. "Are we going to die up here?"

To her surprise, he stroked his thumb along her shirt above her navel. "Truth be told, that's a pretty good possibility." His voice sounded as grave as she felt. "But I hope not."

"My mum will be all alone." Rose bit her lip for a second, fighting back the fear as she said the words. The reality of their situation seemed suddenly overwhelming, and like a dam, everything broke free. She felt the tears begin to leak down her cheeks, and she fought to keep the sobs from shaking her body. Jonathan's fingers tensed against her skin, then he pressed on her hip making her turn over. She found her face buried into his shirt, and he sighed. Without warning, his leg was suddenly over hers, his arm went under her cheek, and his hand buried in her hair. His chin pressed into her hair, and he rubbed circles against her back. Completely wrapped up in his warmth, Rose cried herself back to sleep.

 


	6. Chapter 6

It was a soft humming that brought Rose fully back to consciousness. She had been vaguely awake when they took turns feeding the fire, but now her body was telling her she had slept all it could handle. The humming was low, just above her ear, and really very pleasant. She was also the warmest she had felt since she woke up from the crash. She shifted her head, realizing that it was still resting on Jonathan's arm, the weight on her thigh said his leg was still draped over her, and she could feel his fingers twirling in her hair almost absentmindedly. She shifted her head just a bit, and peeked up at him. He was staring down at her, and when their eyes met his humming and toying of her hair stopped.

"That song is pretty." She managed to mumble. "What is it?" She knew she should roll away, sit up and get dressed, but she wasn't ready to face the cold.

"Bring Him Home." Jonathan gave her a hint of a smile, a real one too. "From Les Miserables." Rose noticed that he didn't make any movements to separate himself from her, but that was probably because he wasn't ready to leave their bubble of body heat. "I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep if you want, it's not even sunrise yet." He shifted his arm, and she could tell by the wince on his face it was asleep.

"What time is it?" Rose lifted her head off of his arm. The fire was still going, and surprisingly their little shelter was holding the heat relatively well. It wasn't hot, but there was no biting chill. She sat up and ran her fingers through her hair.

"Little before six." Jonathan grunted, pushed himself up, and stretched. "At first light, I'm going to go check the snares."

Rose rolled her shoulders, but when she tried to stretch her side ached sharply. "Shit." She lowered her arms and cautiously pulled up her shirt. Her left side has a massive bruise. She ran her fingers along it, pressing gently. Nothing felt broken, but the bruising ached deep.

"That looks like it hurts." To her surprise, his tone wasn't sarcastic. "Anything broken." Rose shook her head as she lowered her shirt and reached for a water bottle. She wasn't thirsty, but her mouth felt dry and disgusting.

Once her throat was less parched, she spoke again. "Thank you." She shrugged one shoulder, feeling a bit embarrassed for her breakdown before they fell asleep. She wasn't normally a crier, but it had all seemed too much. "For last night, I mean."

To her surprise, his eyes darted to the side and pink flooded into his cheeks. "You saved my life." There was that heavy silence again. He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck with one hand. "Look, I'm not good at the whole apology and gratitude thing, but I'm sorry for those things I said last night." His eyes met hers, and she could see that he was genuinely regretting his words.

"Okay." Rose tucked her hair behind her ear. There was something different about him today, she couldn't quite place what. "Let's start over." She extended a hand to him. "I'm Rose Tyler."

"I'm Jon Noble." He clasped her hand gently and they shook. "Here." He pulled his hand away and reached into their dwindling supply of granola bars and peanuts to hand her one of the green wrapped bars. "Eat up while I boil some water. Better to drink hot than cold."

"Thanks." She took the bar and set it aside, before reaching for her now dry socks and shoes. She pulled them on, as well as her two jackets. "I'm just gonna pop out really quick to uh." She let her words trail off. Thankfully he just nodded. She spied the pile of plastic trash bags, and an idea sprung to life. She pulled one over each shoe, and tucked the ends into her socks. Hopefully, it would keep the snow from soaking them again.

"Good idea." Jon nodded at her feet. "I didn't even think about that." He began pouring a bottle of water into the coffee pot.

Rose stood and lifted two of the cabinet doors from their makeshift braces and stepped into the freezing morning air. She could almost feel the heat being sapped from her body as she replaced the doors and trudged off into the woods. Sunrise was visible just at the edge of the horizon, turning the distant sky a strange grayish pink. It would have been pretty, breathtaking even, in any other circumstances, but she was so cold that she didn't even pay attention. After taking care of things, a good ways from camp, she trudged back through the snow. Her face and fingers were already feeling numb, despite pulling her hood up and shoving her hands under her arms.

When she reached the tent, Jon was coming out into the faint light. "I'll be right back. Stay in there."

"No arguments from me." She snorted, ducking inside as he replaced the doors. Rose settled down to the ground, sighing as she spotted a cup full of steaming water, and took a drink. It almost burned her tongue, but it immediately began warming her belly. She spotted a folder sitting on the ground, with a pen resting on top of it. She glanced at the doorway, before lifting the corner of the folder up to peek inside. The paper inside was blank, except for the top line. "Dear Mum and Dad." Rose let the folder fall shut, feeling a bit guilty that she had invaded his privacy.

She picked up the rest of the granola bar and began to nibble. She wondered if her mum had been notified that the plane had crashed yet. Had she flown into one of the nearby cities to wait for a response, or had the rescue crews just told her to wait back in London? Were Amy and Rory with her, keeping her company? Would it be on the news? That question made her laugh out loud. "Of course it's on the news, what with Mr. Golden Boy being on board." She chuckled to no one. That also meant that the search teams would not be called off so easily. The sky had been clear, from what she saw, and it didn't feel like the wind was bad. Some part of her wondered if that boded well for them, if his celebrity status would be more of a motivation than just a plane of regular joes.

Rose's thoughts made her wonder what was taking Jon so long. It felt like he had been gone almost an hour, but before she could stand and call out to him, she heard the crunching of his feet on the snow. Then she heard what sounded like digging. She poured out a cup of hot water for him just as the cabinet doors pulled away, and he ducked in and replaced them.

"Breakfast?" He panted, holding up one of the plastic trashbags that was filled with something small and dismembered. Rose tried not to blanche, as he dropped to the ground, opened the coffee pot, refilled it with water, and placed three of the pieces of meat into the water. The other four pieces he stabbed onto pointy sticks he had tucked under his arms. Rose thought that the sticks would probably burn, but then she saw that they were fresh and healthy sticks. The meat would cook log before they dried out enough to truly burn.

"The mighty hunter returns." She giggled, taking two of the sticks from him. She held them over the flames. "What were you digging for?" She slowly rotated her food, watching as he did the same.

"Really wanna know?" He arched an eyebrow as she nodded, then shrugged. "Another one of these. The snow should keep it cold enough to not spoil." He stirred the coffee pot with one hand. "I couldn't carry two of these and firewood, so one of us will have to go back out."

"I'll go." Rose offered. She had a feeling that with a fully belly and the sun bringing the temperature up above freezing, that she shouldn't have too much trouble. Jon nodded, and they fell into their first companionable silence as they cooked their meager meal.

"Who's Amy?" Jon asked after a while, he had pulled one of his meat pieces back and was poking it with the knife to see if it was done. "You said her name in your sleep."

"My best friend." Rose explained, then after a moment offered. "That redheaded model for that new perfume."

"The one on the billboard by the Thames?" He asked, sticking his meat back into the fire.

"Yep." Rose nodded and chuckled. "Weird right, an estate shop girl being best friends with a model? We've know each other since primary school." That had been one of Rose's fears, when Amy had been offered the job, that her best friend would turn into a snob. Fiery Amy had not, though. She was the same person, only with a bigger bank account.

"Little bit weird, yeah." Jon didn't shoot her any condescending looks. If anything, he looked distracted. He reached up with one hand and rubbed his bandage. "There any paracetamol in that first aid kit?"

"Your head still hurts?" Rose set her sticks down and opened it up, finding a small bottle. She popped it open, dumped two into her hand, and passed them to him.

"Just a bit. Feels sorta like a sinus headache, but only on one side." He popped the tablets into his mouth and washed them down with some water. "Probably just stress."

"Let me see your head." She scooted around the fire, and when he bent his head she lifted up a corner of the bandage. She could see the knot underneath the scabbed over cut. "Well, you've got a bump the size of an egg. Could be that." Jon shrugged. Rose moved back to her spot, snd picked up her meat. It looked done now, so she set it aside to cool down enough to eat.

"Maybe." He picked up a piece of his meat and began to nibble at it. Rose followed suit.

By the time they were finished, it was full light. Rose filled an empty water bottle with some of the boiled brother and tucked it into her jacket pocket. "I'm gonna go get more firewood." She pushed herself to her feet.

"Mind if I come?" Jonathan was grabbing his jacket, which he had taken off the eat.

"You don't want to stay in here where it's warm?" Rose was surprised. She expected him to want to stay inside after his long jaunt out before breakfast.

"We can carry more firewood if there's two of us." He was already moving to get the cabinet doors out of the way.

Once outside, Rose took a look around. The sky was clear, with not a cloud in sight. The sun was out, and while it helped warm up some of the temperature, it was still just above freezing. "We can try to break more of that tree apart." She offered, nodding at the snow covered trunk.

"Maybe later, when we've cleared everything else out." Jon was rubbing his hands together and he pointed with both palms in the direction of tracks his must have made. "I saw a pretty damaged tree that way both yesterday and this morning, but I didn't have time to get any of the wood."

"Let's get to it then." Rose pulled her hood up, crossed her arms across her chest, and started forward. They walked in silence for a bit, a friendly distance apart, when Jon started humming that tune again. She glanced sideways at him, and the way he had his hands shoved in his pockets walking with a bit of a carefree attitude made her chuckle. It was a far cry from the haughty, egotistical strut he had used in the airport and their first day after the crash.

"Something funny?" He arched an eyebrow and looked over at her. Again she could see it, the attraction women had for him. He was handsome, with that scruff covered jaw and proud cheekbones. In the bright sunlight, she could even see a dusting if freckles.

"What changed?" She had to know why he was suddenly being so nice. "What happened to the millionaire golden boy attitude? It's like you woke up and had a lobotomy."

He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. His ears and cheeks, already turning red from the cold, flushed a bit darker. "Our argument last night." Rose blinked at him in shock. "I was treating you like crap, and, well, when I figured out what Jimmy did to you it made me think." He frowned a bit, looking down at the snow. "It made me realize that I was treating you no differently than him. You saved my life, even after I tried to shove you at the airport and snapped at you on the plane. You didn't even like me, and you still risked hurting yourself to get me warm. Then there I was, acting like you were trash." He met her eyes, finally, and swallowed. "You're the first genuinely good person I've met in a long time, and it reminded me of who I was before all of, well, everything." Jon offered her a shy smile, and she wondered how long it had been before anyone had seen this side of him.

Rose didn't know what to say, so she just gave him a smile back and bumped his arm with her shoulder. To her surprise, he lifted that arm and draped it over her shoulder in a friendly way and rubbed her opposite arm. "I don't think we're gonna die." She offered hesitantly. "Isn't that how the movies always go, the main character has a heart changing revelation and then the rescue team swoops in?"

That made him laugh, which made Rose burst into giggles herself. "Didn't anyone ever tell you movies are fake?" He squeezed her arm through her coats and then came to a stop. "Rose Tyler!" She stumbled as he pulled her around and stared down at her. "You're a genius." He kissed her square on the forehead, then grabbed her hand. "Come on, let's get that firewood!" Rose wasn't sure what had just popped into his head, but she hurried after him through the snow. Her forehead tingled the entire way.

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Jon squinted at Rose across the fire, his pen scratching out the words without him looking. She kept glancing away from him, her brows narrowing together just a bit. It wasn't working, he needed to see her whole face to get it right. "Stop looking at that water bottle and say it again, like before."

Rose rolled her eyes, something she did quiet a lot since he had enlisted her help with this idea. Then she leaned forward, one hand on the semi-defrosted ground and spat the words out. "Act like a proper human being for the next two hours." She mimed reclining triumphantly into a chair. "And I won't say a word about it."

The woman was good, and he wondered if she knew the latent acting ability that was under the surface of her attitude. "Perfect." He beamed at her, penning in the directional cues. "Absolutely brilliant." He closed the folder and tossed it to the side. "Maybe I'll cast you as the female lead." Jon laughed as she tossed the water bottle at him with a cheeky tongue touched grin. She had smiled like that a lot since their conversation on the way to get firewood. At first, the smile had seemed a bit strange, but the more she flashed it in his direction, the more it became endearing.

Rose was really lighthearted, now that the ice had finally been broken. Even he knew that the pun in that thought was all too on the nose. She was funny, quick witted, and just genuinely pleasant to talk to. It had been years since he had let himself lower his guard and be this carefree with someone outside of his family. His comment about casting her though, brought an image to his mind he didn't expect. For just a flash of a moment, he pictured her on the red carpet, in a flowing, powder pink gown, her blonde hair swept up into a diamond decorated comb as she flashed that smile for the cameras. Then the image was banished by a plastic spoon catching him square in the nose.

"Earth to Jon." Rose snickered as he blinked himself back into their real situation.

"Sorry, what?" He hadn't even realized she had spoken.

"I said that Amy is the one who is good on film, not me." She scoffed and shook her head at him. "Besides, 'm not the Hollywood type." Why the hell would she think that? She definitely had the spitfire attitude necessary for battling her way through people, especially men, like him.

"Nonsense." It was his turn to scoff. "If you can handle me, you could definitely make your mark on the big screen." Suddenly, she was digging through the dwindling pile of supplies. He was confused, expecting a retort. She was good at those. "What are you looking for?"

"A needle." She lifted her heavier coat off the ground.

"A needle?" Jon reached for the first aid kit, wondering if one was in there. Although, he couldn't for the life of him figure out why she needed one. "What do you need a needle for?"

"To deflate your ego." His hand froze on the latch of the kit as her words sank in. When he glanced over at her, she was covering her mouth to stifle her giggles.

"You little tart!" Jon gasped as he threw the spoon back at her. Her giggling was contagious, and soon he found himself laughing right along with her. It felt good, to forget where they were and just be relaxed for a moment. The strange part of the feeling good was that the gnawing stress that had been settled in the base of his neck for years was easing up.

"Oh hell." Rose gasped and quickly stirred their soup stuff in the coffee pot. It has boiled over a bit, making the fire hiss, and breaking their moment. Except, as he watched her put the lid back, Jon didn't feel like the moment had totally gone.

"I'll have to set the snares again before we go to sleep." He had almost forgotten in the easy banter of their days. After the trip to get firewood, they had gone up to the crash site and the ledge to watch for any sign of rescue. Their hopes had been squashed when they had seen that the area where he spotted the first helicopter was covered by some nasty looking clouds.

"Put your coat on and take these." Rose had poured their soup into four of the plastic cups. She was pulling her trashbags over her shoes. "I want to go do something."

Jon quickly donned his jacket, curious as to what she had in mind, and picked up the cups. She was moving their door and stepping out into the fading light. "Where are we going?" She didn't answer, as she set the doors back up and took two of the cups. He realized she was heading up to the crash site, and, his curiosity piqued, he followed. She stood a ways back from the steep ledge, and slowly sipped her soup.

"One of the things I wanted to do on my vacation was watch the sunset over the mountains." Rose was staring off at the red and gold sky beyond them.

Jon stood beside her, drinking his own bland soup. His tastebuds had stopped recognizing the blandness, and it almost tasted pleasant. He had been taking trips to the mountains since he was a kid, but he couldn't remember if he had ever paused to watch the beauty spread out. The sun had already dipped behind the farthest peak, casting it into a dark shadow ringed by scarlet, orange, and steel blue. For the first time in his memory, he felt dwarfed by the vastness of the world.

"I would give every pound in my savings account for a fresh canvas and a set of watercolors right now." Rose's voice was soft and full of awe. "I've never seen anything so beautiful in my life."

Her words pulled his eyes away from the natural wonder before him and stared at the woman beside him. The light glistened off of her skin, making it glow. He had thought her pretty before, but the amazement on her face as she stood there, freezing, windburned, and glowing rendered him speechless in a way he never thought possible. Dropping his now empty cup, he dug into his pocket for his mobile. It had only twenty-seven percent battery left, but he couldn't resist. He brought up the camera, shifted his position so the sunset framed her neck, face, and hair, and then snapped a picture. The click sound made Rose spin around.

"Did you just take my picture?" Rose looked confused. "Why?" She didn't look upset, just confused.

"I thought." What had he thought? Jon wasn't sure. It had just seemed like a moment that shouldn't be wasted. "Look." He held it out for her to see. Rose shifted closer, and together they peered down at the screen.

"I look." Rose tilted her head, and her hair brushed against his shoulder. "The sunset makes me look..." she couldn't seem to find her voice. Her eyes shifted up, searching his own. Unbidden his heart began to race. Her lips parted just slightly, and he suddenly found himself wondering how soft they would feel against his own. Then, the wind gusted, and she gave a violent shiver.

Jon shook his head and let out a breath. "We should get back indoors." His voice pitched uncharacteristically high. "Temperature's dropping."

"Yeah." Rose blinked and stepped back. "Right, and we should probably bottle up the rest of the soup, stew, food." She threw back the last mouthful of the aforementioned food and started back towards camp.

Jon scooped his discarded cup up and followed after her. "You looked like a snow queen." He mumbled into the empty air around him before trudging after her.

Back inside the tent, they stripped out of their thicker outer layers and curled up on their makeshift bed. Rose was facing away from him, her head resting on her coat as a pillow. She was silent, and she had been since they had cleaned up dinner and lain down. Jon wanted to drape his arm over her, like he had last night, but something in her stiff posture stopped him. He wondered if taking her picture had somehow offended her. The silence was palpable, an awkward heaviness that he had never experienced with anyone before. "I'm sorry if I upset you." The words rolled from his tongue against his better judgement.

Rose didn't answer for a long moment. When she did, her voice was so low he had to strain to hear it. "I'm not one of your raging fangirls."

Jon pushed himself up on her forearm to look down at her. "I figured that out on the plane." Then he wondered if he had misinterpreted her meaning. Perhaps that was her way of saying she didn't find him attractive. "I can delete the picture." He reached for his phone where it lay between them.

"Don't!" Rose literally yelped, her hand coming back to stop stop him. Her chilled fingers brushed across his knuckles. "Don't, please." She didn't turn around though. "It was a nice picture."

"But it upset you." Jon picked it up anyways, ready to get rid of it. He didn't resist though, as Rose pulled his arm over her waist and took the mobile. She slid it under her coat and let out a sigh. "Tell me why it upset you." He closed his fingers over hers, pulling them below the blanket and against her stomach to warm them.

"It wasn't the picture that upset me." She murmured. With a heavy sigh she rolled over and faced him, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Statistically we're gonna die here. Let's be real about that, but say we get rescued. You go back to being Britain's Golden boy of show business. I go back to being a shop girl and, come spring, an art student at uni." Even though her face was in the shadows, Jon could tell that it was schooled into an emotionless mask. "As much as I appreciate the effort you're putting in by this act you've been using all day, I'm not a woman who lives in a fantasy world."

Her words were like a slap, despite being spoken in such a soft and polite manner. Jon swallowed, forcing his fingers to stay relaxed where they rested against the small of her back. He had been rejected before, but for some reason this actually hurt. It took a minute before he realized why. She had rejected him by throwing his judgement of her at him. There was just one flaw. He thought about keeping it to himself, but he couldn't. "Rose Tyler, for the first time in almost twenty years I am not acting." He chanced a brush of his finger tips along the material covering her back. "What you've seen today is me, the real me, the me that only my mum and sister get to see."

She made a noise that sounded like a snort of disbelief and moved to roll over. Jon held her in place, not pulling her closer or trapping her. He simply pressed into her lower back, and she stopped moving. "When we get rescued, I'm sure our families will be there. You can see for yourself."

"If we get rescued." Rose whispered, her fingertips brushing his chest as she shifted them. Again his heart began to pick up.

"No, when." He moved so their foreheads pressed together. "Someone has to be the optimist here." Another realization struck him then. Rose had not held up hope for rescue once, often vocalizing her certainty that they weren't going to make it. "Rose, do you want to die up here?"

"Of course not." She shook her head and sighed. "But like you said, this is real life, not the movies."

This woman was driving him absolutely barmy, throwing his words back at him like she was. "Stop that." He hissed, pulling his face back and trying not to glower at her like he had before. She was making it difficult.

"Stop what?" Rose's eyebrows went up as she gave him an innocent look. "Repeating what you said?"

"Taking my words out of context." Jon tried to keep his voice even, low, and not offended. How was she able to push his buttons so easily?

"Not used to someone being able to get under your skin are you?" Was she smirking? She was! "Doesn't feel good, does it?"

Why that little tart was intentionally trying to goad him. The fact was, while it did irritate him, he found he rather liked the way she did it. "Actually." He returned her smirk with one of his own and slid his hand up to her waist to give a delicate squeeze. "It's honestly refreshing and." He inched his face forward again, waiting for her to pull back or roll away. "Really very attractive." When her lower lip dropped in a stunned gasp, he dipped forward and caught it between his own.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Jon didn't expect the slap, but he should have guess it was coming. "I'm sorry." He gasped, pulling away and reaching up to rub his cheek. Obviously he had read that smirk and parting of her lips wrong. "I thought-" he was cut off as she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him back to her.

This time, their lips met in a closed press. Rose's hand relaxed, splaying her fingers across his shirt. "I have a feeling I'm going to regret this." She whispered, her breath breaking across his chin, tickling the scruff that had grown there. Before he could respond, she caught his lower lip between hers in the softest of touches and her tongue trailed across it gently.

"Regret what?" Jon broke this kiss this time, wondering what could possibly be regretted from a simple kiss. It wasn't like he was going to try to get in her knickers. One, she was far different than any other woman he had ever spent time with. Two, they both hadn't bathed in days. Three, he didn't have any sort of protection, and four, it was too damn cold to strip down. He brought his fingers up to trace her soft cheek.

"You, this, men in general." Rose trailed her fingers up his sideburns into his hair, sending warm, pleasant tingles along his skin. There it was. He had almost forgotten, lost in their first surprisingly easy day and sunset moment, about the bastard who had hurt her. Their tongues met hesitantly, and she made a happy little sigh in her throat as they danced.

"I'm not him." Jon pulled back, letting his eyes slide open. He waited for her to look back at him. Those honey eyes were intoxicating, but they looked resigned. "Honestly, Rose, when we get off of this mountain I'll prove it." Her full pout looked so inviting, but he didn't give in. Instead he chose to brush his thumb across it.

"Like I believe you would want to continue this back when you're in your penthouse suite and surrounded by adoring fans." Rose rolled her eyes and pressed her fingers into the back of his head, obviously trying to pull him back to her.

Jon sighed and shook his head. "You think I don't want to see where this goes when we get back to London?" Oh how wrong she was. There was just something about her, something that made her different, something that made her girl next door attractiveness suddenly the most stunning beauty he'd ever seen. He had always been able to crook his finger and have a line of women that looked like perfection. Yet, this warm content feeling was something strangely new to him. He wanted to keep it, to see just how it would pan out.

"That's exactly what I think." Rose gave a lighthearted chuckle snuggled into him. "Every month you have a new model or actress on your arm. 'M not gonna delude myself into thinking 'm nothing more than that." She didn't seem upset or even hurt. To his surprise her voice was amused.

"You're wrong." Jon pushed her back just a bit to rest his forehead against hers. "You're different." It was true, and he didn't know why.

"Like I haven't heard that before." Rose snorted and rolled over, curling up with her back to his chest.

"I'll prove it." Jon reached over to where her phone was resting and picked it up. Even though their was no reception, he powered it up, opened her contacts, and in full view of her began typing. First he input his mum's, Sylvia, number. Then he keyed in his twin sister Donna. "That's my mum and my sister. Now." He quickly typed in his personal mobile number, the one currently almost dead under her coat. Then he turned on the camera. Before taking the picture, he pressed his lips to her cheek. "There, that's my actual mobile, not my manager, not my business line, not my assistant, mine."

Rose pulled her phone away and turned it off. "You're insane." She sighed and laced her fingers through his.

"If you had told me I'd do that a week ago, I'd be inclined to agree." Jon pulled her tight against him, resting his chin on the crown of her head. They were silent for a bit, and the way her breathing grew soft and even he thought he drifted off to sleep. He was just about to drift off himself when she spoke.

"He tried to kill me." Her voice was flat, emotionless, like it was a fact she was reading from a textbook. "Jimmy, that is. When I called the police on him finally, after he locked me in the closet for two days. I thought he was passed out in the bedroom, so I called the cops. He heard me, came into the kitchen, and without a word he grabbed a knife and stabbed me in the chest." She pulled her shirt down in the front and dragged their joined fingers up. "The scar is pretty gross, because it was a breadknife and jagged."

Jon swallowed hard as the pad of his thumb traced over the knotted scar. He could even feel the tiny indentations where the sutures had been. Now he understood why she didn't have hope that they'd make it off the mountain. Surviving one life threatening situation was lucky enough, but two? That was a whole other story. Anger unlike anything he ever felt began to boil in his chest, and he gritted his teeth so hard he thought he'd burst a vein. "That's why you don't believe anything I say, isn't it?"

"Pretty much." Rose shrugged and gave a very audible yawn. "I just don't hold any man to his word anymore."

Jon pressed his lips to the top of her head and sighed. As if this ferocious blonde woman hadn't already been worming her way into his emotions, now she had basically latched herself into them. He was going to prove that he was being honest. He closed his eyes for what felt like a blink.

The two hour alarm on his phone woke him, and he tried not to wake Rose as he shifted his arm out from under her to turn it off and sit up. He groggily reached for the firewood when his mind processed how hard the wind was blowing. The walls of their tent shook violently, and the branch overhead creaked ominously. The hole he left for the smoke to escape was almost covered, and snow was coming in over the metal doors. "Damn it!"

Jon stood up, grabbing a log, and shoved it into the snow wall he had made to create a vent again. He tried to keep quiet, not wanting to wake Rose, but one peek over the doors had him changing his mind. "Rose, wake up." He began grabbing her clothes.

"What's wrong?" She sat up, rubbing her eyes.

Jon shoved her things into her arms. "The wind is pretty nasty. I want to be prepared just in case the tent collapses." He grabbed his own overclothes and began pulling them on. Once he had his shoes covered, began gathering the rest of their supplies and shoving them in a garbage bag.

"Pass me the coffee pot." Rose had pulled the bottles of broth they had stuck in the snow wall to keep cold. He handed it to her, and she poured them in. "Blimey it's cold." A gust of wind had blown in through the gaps at the top, making them both shiver.

"I think we're gonna have to make a run for the plane." Jon felt fear form deep in his gut as the branch that was their only support dip low and make the tent walls billow.

"We'll freeze." Rose was tying her sneakers as she spoke. "We can't move the fire."

"If the tent falls we'll freeze to death anyways. At least in the plane we can be out of the wind and huddle for warmth." No sooner did he speak, then the branch overhead began to crack. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. "Out! Get out and run!" He grabbed their supplies, kicked at the cabinet doors, and watched as she rushed past him holding the blankets.

The night was blacker than anything he had ever seen, and the wind ripped at him like a million frozen pieces of glass. "Rose!" Barely shouted her name before the branch crashed down behind them.

"I'm here!" Her voice was faint as it echoed over the wind. "Where are you?"

He surged forward, crashing into her back. "Here." He kissed the back of her hood. "Keep walking that way, I think." He was almost positive that it was the right way, and then suddenly yellow flickered to life behind them. The tent had caught fire. He spied the faint shadow of their path up to the wreckage site. "There, see it. Just keep going straight."

They trudged into the wind, until they broke free of the treeline. The distant fire reflecting off the windows of the plane drew them forward. Jon tossed their supplies up into the aisle and gave Rose a boost. He climbed up and followed her back to the the cramped stewardess area. "Its so cold." Rose's teeth chattered.

"Come on, we need to get wrapped up." He sat down, pulled her into his lap, and wrapped them both in all of the blankets. The fire from their shelter sent faint yellow light against the roof, but soon it began fading away. Rose nuzzled her head into his chest, and he covered both of their heads with her blanket.

"We're going to die aren't we." She whispered.

For the first time, Jon couldn't bring himself to deny it. They had no fire, no way to make a new one. Instead, he simply squeezed her tight and began to hum. Rose liked it when he hummed, and he contemplated singing. His throat was too tight with fear to get the words out though. So they sat together in the dark and listened to the wind rage outside of the plane.

He gradually became aware of not feeling the cold, but his brain was too sluggish to do anything. Even when Rose's fingers loosened their grip on his neck and slid down his chest he couldn't find the energy to move. He blinked once, and when he opened his eyes daylight was filtering in, but he had to blink again.

This time, when he opened his eyes, it was in a panic. He felt the cold, painfully, and something hot was pouring up his arm. "Rose!" He thought he was screaming, but his voice cracked. He tried to sit up, but hands shoved him back down. "Rose! You can't sleep! Stay awake!"

"Sir, sir, you need to lay still, you're in shock." A man's face swam into view. Above him was a strange read ceiling covered in metal and switches.

"No!" Unrestrained panic flooded through him, as he felt the floor under him."Where's Rose?!" He couldn't see her. He heard a high pitched beeping beyond his feet.

"We're losing her." A female voice stated sharply. "Starting compressions, get the bag."

Jon lifted his head and saw a woman straddling a strange silver lump. At the top of that lump was a mess of blonde hair. Another man placed a strange bulb looking thing over Rose's face and began a rhythmic squeezing, as the woman began pressing into the silver blanket over Rose's chest.

"We've landed." A voice from beyond Rose, heavy with what sounded like a Swiss accent echoed back.

They had been found, but he couldn't relax. His mind cleared as he realized what was going on. Rose was dying. "No!" He jerked at the tubes in his arm and the man holding him down. "I told her she wouldn't die! I made a promise!"

"Mr. Noble, you have to lay still." The man was shoving him again.

Doors slid open, and Jon was greeted by a rush of hospital staff running gurneys towards them. He watched, his head pounding, arms tingling, chest tight as the drug the board with Rose and the woman doing compressions onto the gurney. Then his board was shifted onto the next.

"Let me up! I'm fine!" He shouted, trying to push his own silver blanket off. "Rose! Hang on! I meant what I said."

"We need a sedative." One of the white coated doctors pushing his gurney barked out.

Jon vaguely registered a line of cameras and film crews being held back by security guards, but he didn't care. "I don't need a sedative! I need to get to Rose! I promised!"

The hospitals doors hissed open, and he felt a sharp pinch in his arm. He tried to fight against the groggy numbness pooling into his mind, and the last thing he saw was Rose's shirt being cut open and paddles touching her bare chest.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Rose had been conscious of the voices around her, as they weaved in and out of her dreams. She didn't understand what they were saying, but she heard them. She remembered dreaming, mostly about wandering through waist deep snow towards a navy blue tent, but for the most part everything was just black.

The first words that pierced the darkness and made any sense was someone singing "You Are my Sunshine." No, it wasn't someone, it was her mum.

"Mummy." Rose blinked her eyes open and tried to move her hand. Everything was fuzzy, and her chest hurt every time she breathed. Slowly, Jackie's smiling face swam into focus

"Rose?" Her mum touched her cheek, sobbing and laughing all at once.

Rose tried to touch her face, but her arms felt too heavy to lift. "Are you dead too?" That's the only thing that made sense. The last thing she remembered was Jon holding her in the back of the plane. They had froze to death there, because the storm had destroyed their tent. Yet, if she was dead, why did her throat her and her voice crack.

"No sweetheart." Jackie squeezed her hand and kissed her forehead. Her lips were wet and cool on Rose's skin. "And neither are you. You're in the hospital." Jackie reached up and fumbled with something out of her sight.

They had been rescued? No, that was impossible. She rolled her head to the side, but the effort left her feeling exhausted. To her left she saw a thick white curtain, and a pounding started in her head. "Where's Jon?"

"She's awake." A soft man's voice with a Swiss sounding accent came from the left.

Rose summoned all her strength to roll her head back to the right. A male nurse came in, followed by a shorter blonde woman in a Doctor's coat. "Hello, Miss Tyler. Glad to see those eyes staying open."

"Where's Jon?" Rose asked again, the throbbing in her head and pain in her throat drowning out her own voice. Her heart begin the race. Why wasn't anyone answering her question? The machine beside her bed began to beep.

"Rose, you need to calm down." Her mum, rubbed the back of her hand. "You've been through a lot, and we can't understand what you're saying."

"Hand me that cup." The doctor reached for the styrofoam cup with a lid and a straw on the bed table. Her mum handed it to her, and the doctor slid the straw between her lips. "Sip this and try to relax. You had to be intubated, so your throat is raw and sore."

Rose took three slow sips, and her throat burned in pain as she swallowed. She tried to draw a deep breath, but her chest felt like she had been beat by a cricket bat. Everything hurt, from her scalp to her feet. Everything inch of her skin felt like she was being pricked with red hot needles. "It hurts, everything." She gasped. "My skin."

"I know sweetie." Jackie picked up a strange tube with a red button. Her eyes flicked up to the nurse and doctor, who nodded, and then her mum pressed the button. "Just try to relax. I'll be right here." Rose tried to speak, to ask for Jon again, but she began to feel heavy and light all at once.

"If she can feel the pain." She vaguely comprehended the Doctor speaking. "That means she didn't suffer any permanent damage."

"How is that possible?" Her mum's voice came from a velvet blackness.

"We'll find out when either of them wakes up long enough to talk clearly." This time the black only lasted for a moment, or so it felt to Rose. When she woke up, though, her mum was sitting in a chair and reading what looked like one of her gossip magazines.

Rose drew in a breath, and it still hurt, but it didn't feel as draining. She squeezed her eyes back shut, but the sound of a door opening and someone speaking made her force them back open.

"I brought your coffee, Jackie." A worried looking redhaired woman in a pretty blue, expensive looking peasant top handed her mum a cup. "Everyone still asleep."

"Yeah, well, your mum stepped out to call your dad to see if he had landed yet." Jackie replied, taking the cup. "Not a peep from these two yet though."

"Don't be so sure about that." The redhead woman had met Rose's eyes, and she smiled. "Looks like Rose is coming to."

Jackie almost dropped her cup as she turned. "Rose! You're awake!"

"Hi, Mum." Rose coughed and the redheaded woman grabbed the cup and hurried over to the side of the bed Jackie wasn't on. She pressed the straw to Rose's lips, and Rose took a long sleep. "I thought being dead hurt less." She groaned, trying to shift as the pillow slid behind her.

"Silly girl." Jackie grabbed a square thing with a chord and pressed a button. Rose's head lifted slightly, and the red haired woman lifted her by her shoulders and slid the pillow back behind her head. "You aren't dead, and we have no clue how you aren't."

"Where's Jon?" Rose turned her face from the straw. "Mum, there was a man with me." She swallowed hard and tried to fight against the soreness in her throat and chest. "Did they find a man with me?"

"My brother's right on the other side of this curtain." The red haired woman pulled the curtain back, and Rose's fears died away as she saw Jon sleeping in his own bed. He had wires coming out of his hospital gown and tubes taped to his arms. She felt tears prick her eyes at how helpless he looked. Then she looked down at herself and saw that she was just as wired and taped.

"Rose." Jackie tugged her hand gently. "Oh Rose, what happened to you two sweetheart?"

Rose looked back up at her mum, and felt the tears fall. "I thought we were going to die. He kept saying we weren't, and then the storm hit. He didn't promise me then, and I just knew we were going to." She tried to lift her face to wipe her eyes, but the tubes and wires pulled.

"Shhhh, sweetheart. You're safe." Jackie squeezed her hand and looked around. "Where are the bloody tissues?"

"Here." The woman took the napkin from around her coffee and dried Rose's eyes. "I'm Donna." She offered with a sympathetic smile.

"Jon's twin?" Rose could see something of a resemblance, but not much.

"Yeah." Donna nodded. "He'd be awake too, but he kept screaming for you, that he promised you something, and ripping his IVs out. So the doctor had to sedate him."

"Rose, the doctor is gonna be in here in a minute. What happened out there?" Jackie's voice pulled Rose's eyes back to her.

Rose didn't want to talk about it just yet. Even though she was safe in the hospital, she could steel feel the biting cold deep in her bones. She felt herself shiver involuntarily, making her ache all over.

"Rose." The groggy slurred voice of Jon whimpered from his bed. He mumbled something, and his arm jerked.

"Jon!" The shout tore at her raw throat as she tried to sit up. She felt something pull at her chest and a high pitched beeping whined into the room. She cried as pain stabbed into her side and ribs.

His eyes blinked open, and he let out a wordless shout. "Save Rose!" He shouted and jolted upright. More alarms sounded as he began tearing the wires and sticky pads from under his gown. Then his eyes found hers.

She vaguely heard Donna gasp and her mum drop her coffee, as Jon swung his legs over the bed and stumbled to the floor. "Jon, stop. You'll hurt yourself." Rose winced as she tried to get up and help him. The alarms were jabbing into her brain as the door flew open and nurses rushed in.

"You're alive." Jon was staring at her, tears dripping from his eyes as he pushed aside the nurses pulling him up and staggered the three paces to her bed. "You're alive."

"We're alive." Rose pressed her face into his hand as he leaned onto the railing of her bed and cupped her cheek. Finally, the last bit of fear and anxiety dissipated at his touch. "I thought we were -" her words and thoughts were cut off as his lips pressed into hers.

This time they weren't chapped and cold and tender. They were hot and damp and fervent, making her forget the pain as she brought her hand up to his arm and parted her lips for his tongue to swirl around hers. Now she knew she was alive, because her heart was racing, and every fiber of her being tingled with a sense of happiness and security.

"Oi, lover boy." Donna's voice broke through the haze. "Mind getting back into bed before the Doc jabs you with another sedative."

Rose giggled, letting her hand fall back to the sheet as Jon's lips broke from hers. She looked past his shoulder at the stunned group of nurses, her mum, and Donna. The alarms had stopped, but something warm and wet was dripping on her left arm. She looked down as saw blood streaming from his arm where he had ripped the IV out. "Jon you're bleeding."

"Damn it." He looked down and winced. Then his legs gave out. A pair of nurses caught him around the waist and half dragged him back to bed.

"Well that explains why he needed to be sedated." Jackie gasped, her eyes darting between them.

Rose felt her cheeks flush, and she relaxed back into her pillow. "He always has to be the center of attention." She offered weakly, tearing her eyes away from where he was being re-hooked up and poked. He had kissed her in front of their family, been screaming for her. The reality of what he had promised her, that he wanted her, was true. A strange warm and happy tingle flickered to life deep in her stomach. She blinked back tears as she looked at her mum and Donna, who were exchanging bewildered looks with each other.

"I'm assuming Mr. Noble woke up again." The female doctor came into the room. She smiled broadly as she took in the scene. "And so did Miss Tyler. I'm Doctor Andrews. How are you feeling?"

"Like I died, came back to life, and then got snogged within an inch of my life." Rose couldn't help but smile. She still ached from head to toe, but it wasn't as bad.

"Well I can confirm the first two are correct." She came to stand beside the bed and patted Rose's arm softly. "But I didn't see any kissing."

"You were about forty-five seconds too late." Donna snickered, from where she had knelt to clean up Jackie's spilled coffee.

"Thought the nurses were gonna have to pry them apart." Her mum was shaking her head and staring at Rose like she'd grown an extra head. Not that Rose could blame her. After Jimmy, she had sworn off men, and for the last two years she hadn't even been on a single date.

"Mr. Noble, now that Rose is awake, can we expect you to behave?" The doctor pulled out a stethoscope and arched an eyebrow at him.

Rose coughed and spoke up before he did. "He'll behave. I promise." She glanced over to where he flashed her a smile she could only describe as relieved.

"Miss Noble, could you step over to your brother's side and close the curtain? I need to examine Miss Tyler." Doctor Andrews waited until Donna disappeared behind the curtain. "Rose, I'm going to pull these sheets back, and you can look but try not to panic. You're healing quite well."

Rose swallowed and nodded. She wasn't sure what she was about to see, but at this point it didn't matter. She was alive. Jon was alive, and they were safe. "How long have I been asleep."

"Three days, sweetheart." Jackie spoke, as the Doctor pulled the sheets down and began untying the back of Rose's gown. It hurt to move, but not as bad as the first time she woke up. Vaguely she wondered if one of her IVs had pain medication in it. "They just moved you down from intensive care this morning."

"Why was I intensive care?" Rose winced and gasped as Doctor Andrews pressed delicately on her bare chest. She looked down to find a light spattering of bruises across her chest and what looked like square pink burn lines. "What the hell."

"Rose." Doctor Andrews began gently pressing farther down her stomach. "When the rescue team found you, you were in severe hypothermia. Your heart stopped just as they were landing in the hospital. It was touch and go until we got your body temperature back up and fluids and nutrients into your system."

"I-" Rose met her Mum's eyes and found them leaking tears down her cheeks. "I died?" Had that been the darkness after the dreams? She let her head fall back to the pillow, trying to fight back the panic that was rising in her chest.

Doctor Andrews shifted the sheets down her thighs. "Take some deep breaths and tell me if this is too painful." Her gloved fingers brushed down Rose's calf, leaving a sensation of a sunburn being touched. Rose looked and found her skin pink and peeling. Below that, her toes and feet had bandages that looked damp and tinged pink in some places. "You had some bad frostbite, but luckily none of it turned gangrenous. It must have just started before the rescue crew found you." She lifted the corner of one of the bandages. "A wound specialist will be in shortly to change these out." She flipped the sheet back up and retied Rose's gown.

"Mum." Rose held her hand out to Jackie, who came over to the side opposite Doctor Andrews. She didn't know what to say to her. "I was so scared I'd never see you again."

"Oh, my sweetheart." Jackie kissed her hair and squeezed her hand. "You're safe now. That's all that matters." Rose heard the exhaustion in her voice, and she finally, really looked at her mother. Dark bags ringed her bloodshot eyes. Her hair was a greasy mess, and her clothes looked wrinkled and stale. She knew she probably hadn't eaten or slept properly since she was notified of the crash.

"I am." She squeezed her mum's hand back. "Now you need to be okay too. When'd you last sleep or eat something that wasn't coffee?"

"Not since you two were brought in." Donna called from the other side of the curtain, as Doctor Andrews went around to examine Jon.

Rose shook her head and sighed. "Mum, why don't you go rest and have dinner. I can't heal up if I'm worried you're gonna pass out."

"I don't want to leave you alone, sweetheart." Jackie sighed, stroking her hair.

Rose was feeling a bit too spent to argue, so she just squeezed her mum's hand again and reached for her cup that was on the table. She noticed her fingers were pink and peeling as well, but only on the very tips.

"Jackie, it's well after six." Donna came out from around the curtain with a friendly smile. "Rose is in very capable hands. Why don't we go get something to eat, get you and Rose some clean clothes, and then get some rest."

"Mum, I'm not going anywhere." She tried to put on a smile, but drinking the cool water had irritated her throat again. "Maybe you can get me some stuff to shower with. Haven't had a proper bath in almost a week."

"Okay but have the nurses call me when you need me." Jackie whispered through half a yawn. "I love you sweetheart."

"Love you too, Mum." Rose kissed her palm before she let Donna guide her from the room.

A nurse came in, carrying a tray with a covered bowl and a cup of what looked like jello. She helped Rose sit up more and swung the table over the bed. "We have to start you off on liquids before you can move on to solid foods." She explained. "This is chicken broth. I wasn't sure if you preferred beef."

"Chicken's fine." Rose lifted the lid and had just taken her first taste when Doctor Andrews pulled back the curtain.

"Okay, you two. Try to rest and not irritate my nurses." She said that pointedly at Jon, who was being served his own chicken broth and jello. "That means stay in bed."

"Yes ma'am." Rose giggled weakly as Jon rolled his eyes. Soon, they were alone in the room.

Rose could practically feel his eyes drinking her in, and the look of concern combined with relief made her flush. "Eat." Jon nodded at her bowl as he spoke. "I shouldn't have to tell you that every time hot food is put in front of you."

"I was distracted." She took another spoonful in her mouth and half moaned at the salty and seasoned taste of it. Suddenly ravenous, she swallowed and took another. From the corner of her eye, she saw him smile widely and uncover his own bowl. For the first time since the crash, Rose wasn't afraid to feel hope.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Rose had drifted off again, staring at Jon after they finished their dinner, and when she came to the lights were dimmed. Jon was curled up on his side facing her, sleeping peacefully. He had obviously showered and shaved, and she saw a bag full of what looked like women's toiletries sitting in the chair her mum had been using. The clock over the door told her it was barely after ten.

A nurse was standing beside her bed, changing out the bags on the IV pole. "Hello Rose." He gave her a comforting smile. "I'm just changing out your antibiotics and pain medication." His accent wasn't as pronounced as the others had been. "Mr. Noble's mother dropped off some things for you, but we're waiting for the doctor to clear you to leave bed before you can go to the shower."

"Can I have some more to eat." Rose's hunger was back with a ferocity. "Maybe some tea?"

"I'll bring it in in a little bit." He whispered picking up the controls to her bed. "Want to sit up some more?" Rose nodded and her head raised up. "How's your pain level now?"

"Hurts." Rose moved her legs and her arms. It was still breathstopping, but it was like it was dulled. "But tolerable if I lay still."

"Then we don't need to alter your medicine." He checked her IV port and straightened he wires before moving the controls to her hand. "The television controls are on here too, channel eleven and fourteen are English. There won't be much on except news."

"Thank you." She narrowed her eyes in the dark at his badge. "Stefan."

"I'll be right back." He smiled at her then headed back into the hall.

Rose glanced over at Jon, who was still sleeping peacefully. Most of his wires had been removed, and but he was still hooked up to IVs. She wanted to wake him, to talk to him about what had happened, but she didn't want to wake him up. Instead, she turned on the telly and begin switching through the channels. She found the English channels, and Stefan was right, they were both news. She left one on, smiling as he carried in her tray. She was just about to take a sip of her broth, when the reporters voice cut in.

"Now on to our top story of the night: the rescue of actor and producer Jonathan Noble and a woman named Rose Tyler, the sole survivors of the crash last week." Her spoon froze halfway to her mouth as she stared at the telly. "For those of you who haven't heard, they were on a small passenger plane that crashed in a remote section of the Alps. Storms grounded rescue for three days, but to the surprise and relief of their families they were found barely alive in the wreckage."

She knew she should turn it off, change the channel even, but morbid curiosity had her glued to the screen. She felt her hand shake and she set her spoon down. "While no interviews have been allowed, we do have this clip that was taken when the rescue team landed at the hospital." The scene cut to an orange and yellow helicopter landing outside of a hospital. Nurses and doctors rushed out pushing gurneys, and she saw herself being moved from the helicopter. Someone was straddling her, obviously doing compressions, but then the camera shifted.

Jon was fighting against the team holding him down. "I don't need a sedative!" His panic voice carried across the asphalt and grass. "I need to get to Rose. I promised!" The clip ended with them both disappearing behind glass doors.

"While no one has been allowed to speak with either of them, a spokesperson representing both families has informed us that they are both awake and recovering from this traumatic ordeal." The newscaster turned to her counterpart, to discuss the names of the crash victims and Rose flicked off the screen.

She stared over at Jon, her mind feeling a bit light and dizzy. He knew they had been rescued, that they were safe, that he could have not acted anymore. Yet, he had been screaming for her. He had kissed her in full view of their family and hospital staff. He had been telling the truth. She hadn't believed him, curled up there next to the fire, not even when he put those numbers in her phone. She was just a statistic, and he was one of the golden elite.

She had given in, broken her own rules, because she thought she was going to die. It was the natural human response, or was it? Rose took his face in, really truly looking at him. It hit her so hard that she had to gasp. She did want him, not because they had almost died or because he was keeping his promise. There was just something in the way she felt when he held her that she wanted to feel everyday, safe. She knew that he would never hurt her.

"Keep staring at me like that, and I'm going to forget I'm not supposed to be in your bed." Jon's voice jerked her from her thoughts, and she realized he had been watching her.

"I didn't want to wake you." She smiled at him unable to tear her eyes away from that slow smile creeping across his face. "How you feeling?"

"I should be asking you that." Jon swung his legs over the side of the bed, and she realized that he had gotten rid of his hospital gown in exchange for some striped pajama pants. He grabbed the IV pole and slowly crossed to the chair by her bed. She fixed him with a sharp look wondering why he was able to get up. "I can walk around the room, the Doctor said." She noticed that his feet weren't bandaged, but were pink and peeling as well.

"You got away relatively unscathed." Rose wasn't jealous or in anyway resentful, but she was curious.

"Your legs slid out from under the blankets sometime after we lost consciousness." He explained, scooting the chair closer so he could take her hand. "Mine didn't, so they were a bit more protected."

"I saw the video of us being brought in." She wasn't sure why she said it until she did. She wanted to know how he would react. "You were screaming for me."

"I was." He nodded and squeezed her hands. "They had to keep knocking me out because nobody would tell me where you were, and I got a bit, er, agitated." He gave a shy grin and tugged at his ear lightly. "Then the doctors decided to let us room together."

"Why me?" Rose squeezed his hand before lacing their fingers together. "You could have any woman in the world, so why me?" She wasn't degrading herself, but she genuinely didn't understand.

"Because you made me remember who I really am." Jon raised her fingers to his lips and held them there. "When I saw them trying to revive you, I lost it. I've never lost it before, but the thought of the world without your smile was one I couldn't bear. I've never felt like this before." His lips ghosted over her knuckles, sending warm waves up her arm and into her chest. "If you don't want me, I get it. I was a total dick to you at first."

Rose rolled her eyes. Yes he had been a dick, but then he had let her in. She had seen him vulnerable, at the end of the rope, and in those moments he had cared only about her safety. That was all the confirmation she needed. "Shut up and kiss me you idiot."

Jon scrambled to his feet and say gingerly on the bed beside her. Rose didn't miss the careful way he touched her, making sure nothing he did caused her pain. He didn't kiss her lips first. He placed feather lite touches to her cheeks and brow, and then he caught her lips.

It felt right, she realized. She had never thought that about a kiss before. Yet, the way their lips melded together, soft pulls and releases paired with happy sighs and and gentle caresses of their fingers against the exposed skin had her melting into the sheets.

Over the next few days, Jon was not stingy in his affectionate touches, not even when their families were present, which was pretty much the entire visiting hours time. Rose thought that she would feel smothered by so much attention, but instead she found that it made her feel needed and appreciated. She was thinking about exactly how she was becoming used to that when Jon made a satisfied hum from behind her.

She was reclining in his arms, feeling much better since she had been allowed to shower unassisted just a few hours before. Their families had stepped out to see if they could track down some "real food" as Donna had put it to bring them. "Not falling asleep are you?" Rose dropped her head back against his shoulder, trying to peer at his phone screen.

"Nope." He popped the p, as was his habit, and lowered the phone so she could see the screen. "Was just looking at this." It was the picture of her on the mountain. "Just remembering how you looked like a snow queen like that."

"That's what you were thinking when you took it?" Rose took the phone from him, smiling as she remembered their first almost kiss. She had been so angry with herself then, for letting his good looks catch her off guard.

"Yes." He wrapped his arms around her stomach and kissed her hair. "Although, you'll forgive me if I ask you to go somewhere warm and sunny for our next vacation, won't you?"

"Absolutely." Rose laughed until a notification popped up on his screen for one of his social media accounts. "May I?" She gestured at the white bar.

"Go ahead." Jon picked up the notepad he had been scribbling in on and off.

Rose wasn't sure she really wanted to know what was going on with his social media, but again morbid curiosity won her over. She opened it up and was stunned at the number of well wishers, people asking for updates on his and surprisingly her condition, and lots of likes and shares on his post stating that an update would be coming shortly. "How do you keep up with all this?"

"I usually only check it once or twice a week personally." He explained nonchalantly. "But my business manager, Jack, usually runs it." He tossed the notebook aside and nuzzled his nose against her ear, making her cheeks flush as he kissed the sensitive spot behind it. "Wanna give him a heart attack?"

Rose giggled and turned to look back at him. "How?" She pressed her lips to his jaw as he plucked the phone from her hands. "Hey!" She turned her head back around to see him opening up the camera. "What are you doing?"

"You'll see." He lifted the phone and pressed his lips to her cheek. She automatically smiled, as she did every time his lips touched her skin, and she heard the click of the camera. Glancing at the screen again, she saw he had caught the exact moment her smile had happened. "I'm supposed to have you sign about a billion image release forms, buuuuuut...." he opened the page to her social media account and typed 'Thank you all for your well wishes. My Rose and I are feeling much better' and waited for her to speak.

Rose drew a breath, biting her lip. If she said yes, her life would turn on its head. She took the phone from his fingers, then before she could chicken out, pressed the post. "Your Rose?" She turned in his arms to look up into those sparkling eyes.

"Yes."

"No arguments from me." She grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled his lips down to hers, ignoring the repetitive buzzing coming from the phone on her lap.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Jon watched as Rose fidgeted in the makeup chair in the back of the room. A makeup artist was dusting just a hint if highlighter on her cheek, and Rose was scrunching her nose up.

"She doesn't like to be fussed over." Jack chuckled, from where he was signing off on the exclusivity paperwork for the interview. They had been back in London for two weeks, and the calls for interviews had been nonstop. Rose, bless her, had taken it pretty well, but now she looked nervous as the stylist helped her from the chair and straightened the skirt portion of her dress. Those honey eyes met his, and Jon was gifted with a nervous smile.

"No she doesn't." He clapped Jack on the arm and picked his way past the camera and lighting crew. "You look stunning." He tilted her chin up for a soft kiss. Honestly, he couldn't stop kissing her every chance he got.

"My face feels like it's got more paint that the Sistine Chapel ceiling." Rose grumbled then she ran a thumb over his lip. "You got some lipstick."

"Good." He took her hand and led her over to the couch where the BBC reporter was waiting. "You gonna be okay with this?" She had assured him before that it was, but now she was looking a bit overwhelmed.

"Yeah, 's just that your house." Rose looked wide eyed around the massive sitting room. It was the first time she had come over, despite him asking. He had gone to her flat three times already. "Bit overwhelming." She murmured, her fingers resting on his thigh. Jon leaned back into the couch, draping an arm over her shoulder and unbuttoning his coat as he relaxed.

"We're ready when you two are." The journalist, a woman named Sarah Jane Smith, cued them.

"Ready." Rose smiled and sat up straighter as someone began the count down.

The interview started off easy, Sarah Jane asked why they had each been on the plane and things like that. Then she asked if they had met in the airport. "Sort of." Rose glanced sideways at him and then down at where her hand rested on his thigh.

"Not exactly." Jon brought his hand over to cover hers and squeezed. Here it came, the moment he knew was about to send the press into a buzz, but he didn't care. "I was actually really rude to Rose. I cut her in line to board, then snapped at her on the plane. Honestly, I was a complete and utter arse from the moment we met."

Rose made a very un-ladylike snort and jabbed her elbow into his ribs. Jon flashed her an apologetic look. "Yeah, he was." She smiled at Sarah Jane and continued with a confidence that made Jon swell with pride. "Even after I dragged him from the wreckage, got the fire going, and covered him up he was an complete jerk."

"Well obviously you don't feel that way about him now." Sarah gestured at their joined hands and his arm over her shoulder. "How did this happen."

"We had an argument. I said some really cruel things." Jon felt the stab of guilt over the way he had judged her and goaded her as fresh as he had as soon as he realized the reality of her past. "Instead of just closing off, ignoring me, or even insulting me back, she slapped me." Then, breaking his gaze away from Sarah Jane he spoke to Rose. "I apologized, and the next morning we agreed to start fresh. Then, at sunset something clicked. I looked at her, standing there in the snow and realized that if we made it off the mountain alive I didn't want to spend a day without seeing her smile at me." Even under the makeup, he could see Rose's blush forming. "I honestly have no clue why she decided to stay with me, but I've never been happier."

He didn't really remember what else was asked, because he kept being distracted by the way Rose was ghosting her thumb across his own. So, when the cameras left and Jack disappeared to take care of whatever paparazzi was waiting outside, he waited expectantly for Rose to ask to go home. Yet, she was still sitting on the couch, staring out the massive windows at the sunset over the London skyline.

"This is the first time we've been properly alone since the storm." She met his eyes with a timid smile.

"So it is." Jon came behind the couch and began rubbing her shoulders. His heart did a little jump when she gave a sigh and let her head loll forward to give him more access. "What's on your mind, sweetheart?" He could tell her thoughts were going a million miles an hour.

"You said you don't know why I'd want to be with you." Her voice was soft, and he didn't answer. He knew her words hadn't been a question. "I didn't at first. Thought we were too different, but when I woke up all I could think about was you." Her hands came up to cover his, and she turned to look up at him. "You made me feel safe, never gave up, and I never realized how much I needed that."

"You deserve it." Jon's eyes drifted down to where he knew the scar was hidden by her dress. "I'd never hurt you, you know that." He came around to crouch in front of her as soon as he saw tears forming in her eyes. "Rose, oh my Rose, please don't cry."

"Can I stay the night?" She wiped at her eyes, causing the mascara and eyeliner to smear. In his opinion, it just made her look even more beautiful.

"Of course." Stood and pulled her to her feet. "You go change out of that dress, and I'll start dinner." He kissed her forehead softly, knowing how much she disliked being kissed on the lips when she was crying everywhere. "Bedroom is the door at the end of the hall. My sweatpants are in the dresser in the back wall of the closet."

"Not soup." Rose managed to give a soft laugh as she wiped her eyes again and ducked under his arm towards the hall. "I'm so sick of soup."

"Pasta it is." Jon smiled, watching her disappear towards the bedroom and went to the kitchen. He tossed his pinstriped jacket on the counter where he had discarded his tie earlier, and went to work getting the water boiling and sauce simmering.

He had to admit that he had not been sleeping well without Rose being within reaching distance. He had woken up many times in a panic, afraid they had let the fire go out or that she had gotten lost in the snow. Jon wondered if she had been dealing with the same issues. He managed to get their dinner ladled out onto plates and the wine poured, when Rose said his name. It was a soft sound, like a breath. Jon looked up and nearly knocked the bottle of wine off the table.

Rose was standing just out of the hallway, freshly showered, and wearing one of his Tshirts from a concert he had gone to, and from what he could tell that was all she was wearing. "Uh-" he couldn't formulate a coherent sentence because the way she looked completely blanked out all thought. "Hi."

Rose didn't respond. She bit her lowerlip and held out a hand to him. He didn't even register his feet moving until her fingers were in his and she was staring up at him. He saw her unspoken request in her eyes, and heat and joy lit up deep inside of him. "Are you sure?" He pulled her flush against him, letting their lips graze softly against each other.

"More than I ever have been in my life." Rose's fingers began working at the buttons on his shirt. "Dinner can wait." Then she caught his lower lip between her teeth and dipped her hand into his half open shirt. Jon needed no further prompting. He scooped her into his arms and carried her back down the hall to his bedroom.

Dinner was forgotten as they clung to each other, sweating and satisfied in the dark, and when they woke the next morning Jon only spent enough time on his phone to let Jack know he wasn't to be bothered for the rest of the day. The money, the fame, the scripts all meant nothing compared to the pink and yellow angel singing as she cooked them waffles and beamed at him from across the breakfast bar. They had all just been things he had chased to fill what was missing in his heart. Rose Tyler was all he would ever need to be happy.

 


End file.
